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SIGHTS  AND  SENSATIONS 


IN 


FRANCE,  GERMANY,  AND 


SWITZERLAND. 


SIGHTS  AND  SENSATIONS 


IN 


FRANCE,  GERMANY,  AND  SWITZERLAND; 


OR,    EXPERIENCES    OF 


AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 


THE   BUBBLES  OF  CHAMPAGNE, 
HOMBOURG   AND    BADEN-BADEN, 
A   TI'.AMP   IN  THE   BERNESE   OBERLAND, 
THE    FOUNDLING    HOSPITAL   OF  PARIS, 
A    CHAMBER  OF  HORRORS, 

9 

THE   CLOSERIE    DE    LILAS, 
THE    QU  ARTIER   LATIN, 

ETC.,  ETC.,  ETC. 


By  EDWARD  GOULD   BUFFUM, 


+*■■[ 


AUTHOR  OF   "  SIX   MONTHS   IN   THE  GOLD   MINES,"   ETC.,   ETC. 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER  &  EROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 


FRANKLIN     SQUARE. 


18  69. 


»    »     9  * 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 
HARPER   &    BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


.:  -•:  ••••• 
• :  .* :  •.♦ 


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PREFACE. 


f"T  is  believed  that  the  name  of  the  author  of 
these  pages  will  require  no  introduction  to 
a  very  wide  circle  of  readers  both  at  home  and 
abroad  —  in  New  York,  where  he  began  his 
journalistic  career ;  on  the  Pacific  coast,  with 
whose  early  fortunes  he  was,  as  editor,  ex- 
plorer, and  legislator,  intimately  and  honor- 
ably associated ;  in  the  capitals  of  Western  Eu- 
rope, where  he  passed  the  last  nine  or  ten  years 
of  his  life  as  chief  correspondent  of  a  leading 
New  York  newspaper.  In  all  these  places  Ed- 
ward Gould  Buffuni  had  a  multitude  of  friends 
who,  on  the  announcement  of  his  demise  in 
Paris  some  months  ago,  sincerely  mourned  the 
untimely  taking-off  of  one  who  had  endeared 
himself  by  every  engaging  quality  of  head  and 
heart,  and  given  promise,  by  many  creditable 

465207 

LIBRARY 


VI  PREFACE. 

performances,  of  a  brilliant  and  successful  lit- 
erary career.  For  those,  however,  who  did  not 
personally  know  him,  it  will  not  be  amiss  to 
premise  a  few  words  by  way  of  biography  and 
characterization  —  words  which  the  fraternal 
hand  that  writes  them  will  endeavor  not  to 
color  beyond  the  modesty  of  nature. 

My  brother,  Edward  Gould  Buffum,  was 
born  at  Sniithfield,  Rhode  Island,  and  came  of 
an  ancient  Quaker  family  who,  about  the  mid 
die  of  the  17th  century,  fled  from  the  persecu 
tions  of  the  Puritans  of  Salem,  and  sought  she! 
ter  and  protection  in  "  Providence  Plantations.' 
His  mother,  a  superior  and  remarkably  hand 
some  woman,  belonged  to  the  Gould  family  of 
Newport.     His  father  was  Arnold  Buffum,  a 
man  of  singular  purity  and  elevation  of  char- 
acter, who  earned,  by  good  works,  the  title  of 
"  the  Quaker  philanthropist,"  and  by  a  living, 
glowing    enthusiasm,  revealed    his   affiliation 
with  the  spiritual  line  of  George  Fox. 

When  Edward  was  a  mere  b>oy,  the  family 
removed  to  the  Great  West,  and  he  was  left 
to  be  educated  under  the  care  of  some  rela- 


PREFACE.  VI 1 

tives  in  Rhode  Island  at  one  of  the  Quaker 
schools  near  Providence.  If  this  were  the  fit- 
ting place  to  enter  into  an  analysis  of  the  in- 
fluences which  went  to  shape  his  character, 
I  should  be  compelled  to  say  that,  for  a  na- 
ture of  his  mould,  the  circumstances  of  his 
nurturing  and  education  were  not  altogether 
favorable.  Among  the  sect  of  Friends,  it  is 
too  frequently  the  case  that  the  spiritual  fires 
have  long  ago  gone  out,  leaving  behind  only 
the  white  ashes  and  embers  of  a  dead  formal- 
ism. The  sort  of  Quaker-Puritanism  amid 
which  the  boy's  lines  were  cast,  frequently 
makes  strong  and  admirable  characters ;  but 
very  often,  also,  its  morbid  culture  of  what  it 
calls  "  conscience,"  its  subjection  of  all  man- 
hood to  an  abstraction  which  it  names  "  duty," 
result  in  drying  up  the  very  sap  and  sj)rings 
of  humanity,  and  leave  a  class  of  atrophied 
men  and  women,  who,  under  the  cloak  of  this 
same  "conscience"  and  "duty,"  practice  a 
frigid  selfishness  and  a  dreary  cynicism. 

But  tliis  is  not  the  place  to  enter  upon  any 
such  analysis :  and  so  it  may  suffice  to  say  that. 


VH1  PREFACE. 


after  many  struggles,  the  boy's  bold  and  spon- 
taneous individuality  finally  freed  itself  from 
these  trammels,  and,  at  about  the  age  of  nine- 
teen, he  came  to  New  York  to  begin  life  for 
himself. 

He  had  early  exhibited  an  aptitude  for  lit- 
erary pursuits,  and,  soon  after  his  arrival  in 
this  city,  he  entered  the  profession  of  journal- 
ism. It  is  stated  of  him  in  a  sketch  in  a  prom- 
inent newspaper  with  which  he  formed  his 
first  connection,  that,  "  as  a  writer,  he  at  once 
displayed  ability  of  a  high  order."  He  con- 
tinued his  newspaper  employment  until  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Mexican  War,  when  he 
joined  Colonel  Stevenson's  regiment  (1st  N. 
Y.  Vols.),  with  which  he  went  to  California 
as  a  lieutenant.  He  served  with  his  command 
on  the  Pacific  coast  of  Mexico  until  the  close 
of  the  war,  and  was  discharged  in  1848,  short- 
ly after  the  discovery  of  gold  in  California. 
This  event,  which  has  had  so  important  a  bear- 
ing both  on  the  prosperity  of  our  own  country 
and  on  the  exchanges  of  the  world,  lured  his 
adventurous  spirit  to  the  new-found  El  Dora- 


PREFACE.  IX 

do,  and  he  spent  the  winter  of  1848-9  in  the 
mining  region,  taking  an  active  part  in  push- 
ing explorations  for  the  precious  metal.  The 
fruits  of  his  observations  he  subsequently  em- 
bodied in  an  interesting  and  valuable  work, 
the  first  of  its  kind,  entitled  "  Six  Months  in 
the  Gold  Mines."  Soon  after  he  became  the 
editor-in-chief  of  the  Alta-Ckdifomia  newspa- 
per, in  which  position  he  continued  for  several 
years.  He  was  elected  a  member  of  the  Legis- 
lature from  San  Francisco,  and  was  a  promi- 
nent candidate  for  the  Speakership  of  the 
House.  In  the  Legislature  it  is  recorded  of 
him  that  he  displayed  great  ability  as  a  de- 
bater, and  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  wants 
of  the  new  community.  In  1858  he  went  to 
Europe,  and  finally  settled  himself  in  Paris  as 
head  of  a  bureau  of  correspondence,  in  which 
arduous  employment  he  continued  up  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  which  occurred  a  few  months 
since,  at  the  age  of  forty-one. 

This  brief  narrative  will  suffice  to  show 
that  the  author  of  these  pages  was  a  busy 
man ;   and  justice  demands  that  the  sketches 


X  PREFACE. 

which  compose  this  little  posthumous  volume 
be  judged  accordingly.  The  "  Sights  "  and 
the  "Sensations"  he  here  depicts  were  writ- 
ten currente  calamo,  in  the  midst  of  occupa- 
tions which  taxed  all  his  time,  and  required 
his  constant  care  and  closest  attention.  It  is 
possible,  therefore,  that  they  may  not  have  all 
the  j)olish  which  a  man  of  leisure  would  be- 
stow on  the  productions  of  his  pen.  It  will 
be  found,  however,  that  they  possess  a  special 
value  and  charm,  which  they  owe  as  much  to 
the  writer's  individual  cast  of  mind  as  to  his 
long  training  and  experience  as  a  journalist. 
The  author  was  a  man  who  had  seen  a  great 
deal  of  life — who  had  seen  a  great  deal  and 
felt  a  great  deal  —  for  he  had  somewhat  of 
that  spirit  which  Tennyson  embodies  in  his 
"  Ulysses :" 

"  I  can  not  rest  from  travel :  I  will  drink 
Life  to  the  lees." 

Yet,  withal,  he  was  a  man  of  gentleness, 
whom  experience  of  the  world  had  never 
soured ;  so  that  he  had  a  healthy  love  of  see- 
ing, and,  with  his  quick  and  broad  sympathies, 


PREFACE.       .  XI 


the  capacity  of  observing  and  of  describing 
what  he  observed,  without  excess  of  senti- 
mentality on  the  one  hand,  or  of  stoicism  on 
the  other.  His  descriptions,  in  fact,  are  pure, 
pellucid,  simple,  direct,  and  have  the  charm 
which  these  qualities  possess  for  all  jDersons  of 
unvitiated  taste.  In  addition  to  this,  his  long 
practice  as  a  newspaper  writer  taught  him  a 
style  at  once  concise  and  forcible,  straightfor- 
ward, yet  not  unpicturesque ;  and  his  pages 
are  always  luminous,  vivacious,  crisp,  and  en- 
tertaining. 

It  may  not  be  inappropriate  for  me  to  add 
that  the  papers  which  compose  this  book  form 
a  small  part  of  a  multifarious  and  extended 
series  of  letters,  sketches,  studies,  etc.,  produced 
by  my  brother.  It  is  possible  that,  in  this  vo- 
luminous mass,  there  may  be  other  writings 
worthier  of  going  before  the  public;  but  I 
have  not  sought  for  them.  This  work  not 
having  had  the  advantage  of  the  author's  re- 
vision, I  have  gone  so  far  as  to  execute  such 
indispensable  editorial  labor  as  the  book  re- 
quired for  publication.     It  will  be  proper  for 


Xll 


PREFACE. 


me  to  add  that  two  of  the  sketches  have  al- 
ready appeared  in  magazine  form  —  that  on 
Hombourg  (under  the  title  of  "Rien  Ne  Va 
Plus  "),  in  the  Galaxy,  and  that  on  the  Mont 
Cenis  Tunnel,  in  the  London  Fortnightly  Re- 
vieiv  '  the  last  named — a  memorial  of  adven- 
ture in  Savoy — has  been  republished  recently 
by  several  French  and  Italian  journals. 

But  enough — perhaps  more  than  enough — 
has  been  said  by  way  of  introduction,  and  it 
only  remains  to  commit  the  book  to  the  indul- 
gence of  the  reader. 

William  A.  Buffum, 


New  York,  May  19th,  1869. 


CONTENTS, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   BUBBLES  OP  CIIAMPAGNE. 

A  Week  in  the  Champagne  District. — How  Champagne  Wine  is  made 
and  prepared  for  .Market. — Cost  of  a  Bottle  of  Champagne. — In- 
voice Prices. — Varieties  of  Wine. — The  Champagne  Kings. — The 
Widow  Clicquot. — The  Wine  Cellars. — The  Vintage. — Romance 
and  Reality. — The  pretty  Champenoises. — Practical  Information. 
— The  Cathedral  of  Reims. — Equal  and  Exact  Justice Page  1!J 

CHAPTER  II. 

TRENTE    ET   QUAEANTE    AT   nOMBOUEG. 

The  Baths  of  Hombourg. — Hombourg  and  its  Surroundings. — The  In- 
ducement to  Visitors. — The  great  Gaming-hell  of  Europe. — The 
Kursaal. — The  Game  of  "Roulette." — My  early  Experiences. — 
"Systems,"  and  an  Exposure  of  their  Fallacy. — The  Scene  at  the 
Tables.  —  The  Rouge-et-noir. — Large  Winnings. — The  Countess 
Kisselef. — Tricks  of  Sharpers. — Profits  of  the  Gaines -H 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND. 

From  Zurich  to  Altorf. — The  Falls  of  the  Rhine. — Zurich  and  its 
Surroundings. — Vagabonds. — My  Companion. — Horgen. — Out  lit 
and  Travelling-dress. — Knapsacks  and  Gibicieres. — The  Hill  above 
Horgen. — An  unwarrantable  Intrusion, — The  "Falken"at  Zug. — 
Gretchen  and  her  Sympathy. — Arth. — Guides  and  Commission- 
naires. — The  Ascent  of  the  Rigi.— Dismal  Weather. — TheKlosterli. 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

—The  Rigi  Staffel.— " View"  from  our  Windows.— The  Summit 
of  the  Rigi,  and  the  View  from  there. — Down  to  Weggis. — Lucerne. 
— The  Lake  of  Lucerne.— Fluellen. — Altorf.  —  From  Altorf  to  Mei- 
ringen. — Our  pedestrian  Excursion  fairly  commenced. — Unpropi- 
tious  Circumstances. — Beggars  in  Switzerland. — The  Devil's  Bridge. 
— Realp.— The  Road  to  the  Furca. — View  from  the  mountain  Sum- 
mit.—Necessary  Precautions. — The  Glacier  du  Rhone. — A  pedes- 
trian Wedding-tour.— The  Grimsel.— The  Valley  of  the  Aare.— 
The  Falls  of  Handeck.— From  Meiringen  to  Interlaken. — A  Differ- 
ence of  Opinion,  and  its  Results.— Wearer  and  I  separate. — A  mag- 
nificent View. — The  Glacier  of  Rosenlaui. — The  Alpenhorn. — 
Warerand  I  meet  again. — Grindelwald.— Ascent  of  the  Glacier. — 
An  unpleasant  Predicament. — The  Avalanches. — The  Jungfrau. — 
How  to  "  share  "  a  Mule. — Lauterbrunnen.—  Termination  of  our 
Trip.  — My  Companion  Warer Page  75 

CHAPTER  IV. 

IN    "  MONT   CENIS  "    TUNNEL — THROUGH   THE   HEART   OF   THE   ALPS. 

The  great  engineering  Work  of  the  Century. — A  Journey  into  the 
"Bowels  of  the  Earth."— San  Michel.— The  Village  of  Fourneaux, 
and  its  People. — Its  beautiful  Surroundings. — History  of  the  En- 
terprise.—Anticipated  Difficulties  and  Obstacles. — Map  of  the  Tun- 
nel and  its  Vicinity. — The  motive  Power. — Air  pressed  into  the 
Service. — The  Operations  commenced.  — My  Visit  to  the  Tunnel. 
— Preparations  for  entering. — In  the  "Bowels  of  the  Earth."— 
Darkness  visible. — Breathing  becomes  difficult. — A  Halt  and  Rest. 
—  Among  the  Workmen.  — An  unpleasant  Predicament.  —  The 
Blast. — The  "Advanced  Gallery." — The  Construction  and  Action 
of  the  perforating  Machines. — The  Work  performed  by  them. — 
First  Sight  of  the  "Affusto." — Immense  Wear  and  Tear  of 
Material. — Accidents. — Termination  and  Success  of  the  Enter- 
prise    116 

CHAPTER  V. 

THE    QUARTIER    LATIN. 

My  Residence  and  Mode  of  Life.— Occupations  of  Women  in  Paris.— 
Ladies  taking  the  Degrees  of  "  Bachelor"  of  Arts  and  Letters.— 
A  Lady  attempting  to  obtain  a  medical  Diploma. — Quiet  Life  of  my 
Concierge.— My  Neighbor,  little  Aglae,  the  Flower-maker 144- 


CONTENTS.  XV 

CHAPTER  VI. 

WHAT   THE  PARISIANS   EAT. 

Snail-eating. — History  and  Habits  of  the  Snail. — Cost  of  living  in 
Paris. — Cheap  Restaurants. —  Horse-eating. —  Bill  of  Fare  of  a 
Horse-dinner. —  Tables  d'hote. —  First-class  Restaurants. —  Cre- 
meries. — "  Etablissements  de  Bouillon." — How  the  Parisian  Poor 
furnish  their  Tables Page  152 

CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    HOSPITALS    OF    PARIS. 

Hospital  Lariboisiere. — The  Physician's  Visit. — The  surgical  Wards. 
— The  Operating-room. — Medical  Students. — Chassaignac's  Oper- 
ations with  the  "Ecraseur" 168 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    CLOSERIE   DE    LILAS. 

Students  and  Etudiantes. — "Grisettes"  of  the  Past  and  Present. — 
The  Society  at  the  "Closerie." — The  male  and  female  Dancers. — 
Remarkable  Terpsichorean  Gymnastics. — The  Cancan. — Order  and 
Propriety 181 

CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   FOUNDLING    HOSPITAL   OF   PARIS. 

How  Foundlings  are  taken  in  and  done  for. — Visit  to  the  Hospital. — 
The  new-born  Babies. — The  Infirmaries. — How  the  Foundlings 
are  cared  for. — How  they  become  Foundlings. — Their  Mothers. — 
A  grave  moral  and  social  Question. —Legitimate  and  illegitimate 
Births  in  Paris 187 

CHAPTER  X. 

A    CHAMBER    OF    HORRORS. 


The  dissecting-rooms  at  Clamart. — The  "Salle  de  Reception." — The 
Subjects."— Food  for  Meditation in.r> 


ii  i 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

THE    "SPECIALITE   DE   PUMPKIN  PIE." 

A  Mystery  to  the  uninitiated.  — "  Thin  Magpie "  an  American 
Dish Page  200 

CHAPTER  XII. 

WHAT    AND    HOW    MUCH    THE    PARISIANS    DKINK. 

Drunkenness. — Wine  -  drinking. — ' '  The  Octroi "  Duty.  — Extensive 
Establishments. — Parisian  Cafes. — American  Drinks. — Marchands 
de  Vin. — Absinthe-drinking. — "  A  little  Absinthe,  just  to  give  an 
Appetite." — Composition  of  Absinthe,  and  its  fearful  Effects.  204 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

A   FLYING   TRIP   IN    THE  COUNTRY. 

Orleans  and  "the  Maid." — Chambord. — Blois. — Amboise. — Plessis 
les  Tours. — A  curious  Village. — Houses  cut  in  the  solid  Rock. — 
Chinon. — Angers. — The  Castle  of  Bluebeard.  —  Down  the  Loire. 
—Brittany 216 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

PARISIAN    THEATRES. 

Annoyances. — The  "  Claque." — Its  Origin  and  Object. — The  Censor- 
ship.— The  Acting. — Specialities  of  different  Theatres 230 

CHAPTER  XV. 

DISTINGUISHED  NEGROES. 

Confused  Ideas  of  America. — One  of  my  Countrymen. — No  Prejudice 
against  Color 236 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

LEARNED    INSTITUTIONS    AND    LECTURES. 

Distinguished  Lecturers.  —  Opportunities  for  the  Gratification  of  all 
Tastes. — Programme  of  the  Courses 243 


CONTENTS.  XV11 

CHAPTER  XVII. 


The  Catacombs  of  Paris. — A  Visit  to  them. — Dismal  Places. — Miles 
of  Skulls  and  Bones. — The  Abode  of  the  Dead. — An  agreeable 
Situation. — Accidents Page  248 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  CHIFFONNIERS  OF   PARIS. 

Their  Mode  of  Life,  and  what  they  find. — The  "  Hasard  de  la  Four- 
chette." — Dilapidated  Lorettes. — Objects  found  in  the  Streets  and 
public  Carriages. — Honesty  of  the  Chiffonniers. — An  independent 
Rag-picker.  — The  Ravageurs 261 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

VISIT   TO   THE    CHAPEL   OF   THE   TUILERIES. 

The  Imperial  Chapel. — The  Emperor  and  Empress  at  their  Devo- 
tions.— The  Emperor. — The  Empress 272 

CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    CEMETERY    OF    PERE    I.A    CHAISE. 

A  real  "City  of  the  Dead." — The  Jewish  Inclosure. — Tomb  of  Ra- 
chel.— Defacing  Monuments. — Abelard  and  Heloise. — The  Grave 
of  Marshal  Ney. — The  Artist's  Corner. — Vandael,  the  Flower-paint- 
er.— Singular  Inscriptions. — The  common  Graves. — How  the  Dead 
are  buried,  and  what  it  costs. — The  Aristocracy  and  Democracy  of 
Death.  — "Poor  little  Hunchback."  —  Respect  for  the  Dead.  — 
The  "Jour  des  Morts." — Mortuary  Statistics  of  Paris 279 

CHAPTER  XXI, 

RELIGIOUS    FREEDOM  IN  FRANCE. 

The  Catholic,  Protestant,  and  Jewish  Establishments. — The  Parisian 
Catholic  Churches.— The  "  Eglise  des  Pctits  ri'ies."— The  Statue 
of  St.  Peter.— The  "Ex  Votos."— The  Tableau  of  "Indulgen- 
ces"   297 


xvm 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ROUEN   AND   ITS    ROMANTIC    REMINISCENCES. 

First  Impressions. — The  Rouen  of  To-day. — The  Cathedral  of  Notre 
Dame.  —  St.  Christopher  and  his  History. —  St.  Ouen.  —  A  curi- 
ous Book. — William  the  Conqueror. — "His  Mark." — The  Heart 
of  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion.  —  The  Spot  where  Joan  of  Arc  was 
burnt Page  303 


AN   AMERICAN    JOURNALIST 
IN   EUROPE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  BUBBLES  OF  CHAMPAGNE. 

A  Week  in  the  Champagne  District.— How  Champagne  Wine  is  made 
and  prepared  for  Market. — Cost  of  a  Bottle  of  Champagne. — In- 
voice Prices. — Varieties  of  Wine. — The  Champagne  Kings.— The 
Widow  eiicquot.— The  Wine  Cellars. — The  Vintage.—  Komance 
and  Reality. — The  pretty  Champenoises. — Practical  Information. 
— The  Cathedral  of  Reims.  — Equal  and  exact  Justice. 

AT  the  distance  of  a  brief  five  hours'  ride  from 
Paris  lies  Reims,  the  commercial  capital  of  the 
Champagne  wine  district,  and  the  centre  of  the  ter- 
ritory which  produces  the  Paradisiacal  beverage. 
Around  and  near  it,  on  the  banks  of  the  sluggish 
Marne,  and  upon  the  neighboring  hillsides,  embosomed 
among  vines,  are  the  villages  of  Ay,  Yerzenay,  Bouzy, 
and  others,  with  names  familiar  as  household  words. 
Some  of  these  names  may  possibly  bring  to  mind  un- 
pleasant recollections — retrospective  headaches  and 
dimness  of  vision  ;  but  oftener,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  sweet 
remembrances  of  social  enjoyment — of  sparkling  wit, 


20  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

and  song,  and  jollity.  One  or,  indeed,  both  of  these 
effects  may  also  be  produced  by  a  sight  of  the  names 
which  meet  the  eye  in  the  queer  streets  of  this  quaint 
old  town — Eugene  Clicquot,  De  St.  Marceaux,  Charles 
Heiclseick,  Piper,  and  Veuve  Clicquot !  Though  for- 
eigners and  strangers  to  us  and  to  our  land,  they  are, 
like  the  faces  of  old  friends,  well  known,  and  their 
manufactures,  at  least,  are  highly  esteemed  among 
us. 

I  spent  a  week  at  Reims — pronounced  Ranee — 
in  the  early  part  of  October,  and  shall  not  soon  for- 
get the  delights  of  the  Champagne  land,  its  genial 
hospitality,  and  the  general  facilities  afforded  me  for 
obtaining  information. 

People  who  think  the  sparkling  nectar  which  they 
drink  with  such  delight,  and  pay  for  so  dearly,  grows 
— corks,  bottles,  brands,  and  all — exclusively  on  the 
sunny  hillsides  and  by  the  vine-hedged  river-banks 
of  Ay,  Verzenay,  and  Bouzy,  are  greatly  mistaken ; 
but  not  more  so,  perhaps,  than  those  who  believe  that 
Veuve  Clicquot,  Eugene  Clicquot  (who,  by-the-way, 
is  no  relation  of  the  "  widow  "),  or  M.  de  St.  Mar- 
ceaux, or  Charles  Heidseick,  or  Moet  &  Chandon, 
manufacture  their  wines  from  their  own  grapes  grown 
in  any  particular  locality.  It  is  true,  some  of  these 
proprietors  are  owners  of  large  tracts  of  vine-growing 
lands,  but  not  nearly  of  sufficient  extent  for  the  pro- 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  21 

cluction  of  the  enormous  quantities  of  wine  which 
they  yearly  manufacture. 

The  Champagne  district  is  divided  into  a  great 
number  of  parcels  or  tracts,  on  which  the  grape  is 
grown,  some  of  these  tracts  not  being  larger  than  an 
ordinary  sleeping-room.  The  vignerons,  or  vine-grow- 
ers, a  hardy,  happy  race,  are  themselves  the  proprie- 
tors of  the  land,  and  they  and  their  families  devote 
their  time  and  labor  to  the  culture  of  the  Champagne 
grape,  which  requires  the  most  delicate  care  and  at- 
tention. These  grapes  are  sold  to  the  various  wine 
merchants,  and  the  same  grape  is  accessible  to  all. 

The  manner  of  receiving  the  grapes  from  the  vigne- 
rons  is  a  very  primitive  and  rather  unbusiness-like 
one.  The  vignerons  bring  the  grapes  in  baskets, 
packed  on  the  backs  of  mules,  to  the  presses,  where 
they  are  measured  in  a  tub  about  the  size  of  a  half- 
barrel — the  measure  being  known  as  a  cague,  and 
holding  about  one  hundred  French,  or  one  hundred 
and  ten  English  pounds ;  a  record  is  made  of  the 
quantity  received  from  each  proprietor,  but  no  receipt 
or  voucher  of  any  description  is  given.  The  vigne- 
ron,  at  the  end  of  six  months,  calls  upon  the  manu- 
facturer, and  is  paid  one-half  the  amount  clue  him, 
claiming  the  remainder  only  at  the  expiration  of  the 
year. 

By  Gar  the  larger  portion  of  the  grapes  from  which 


22  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

Champagne  is  made  are  black — a  little  grape  which 
grows  upon  a  low,  stunted  vine.  Wines  are  seldom 
or  never  made  from  the  black  grape  alone,  nor  ex- 
clusively from  the  white ;  but  the  black  grape,  whose 
juice,  more  vinous  than  that  of  the  white,  furnishes 
the  "  body  "  of  the  wine,  is  mixed  with  the  juice  of 
the  white  and  more  aromatic  grape,  and  thus  the  deli- 
cate flavor  and  bouquet  are  secured.  The  black  grapes 
are  grown  principally' — upon  a  vine  never  rising 
above  the  height  of  three  feet,  and  which  is  cut  down 
every  year,  the  grape  growing  upon  the  new  wood — 
at  Verzenay,  Yerzy,  Mailly,  Rilly,  Bouzy,  Ay,  Ma- 
reuil,  Epernay,  and  Pierry  ;  and  the  white,  at  Cra- 
mant,  Oger,  Avize,  and  Le  Mesnil. 

There  is  no  absolute  and  clearly  defined  rule  gov- 
erning the  proportions  in  which  the  wines  from  dif- 
ferent localities  shall  be  mixed,  nor  for  the  proportions 
of  the  juice  of  the  white  and  black  grape  used.  Every 
thing  depends  upon  the  taste  and  skill  of  the  manu- 
facturer, who,  to  insure  success,  must  have  a  genius 
for  his  business — one  might  almost  say  his  art — and 
a  delicate  and  practiced  palate,  in  order  to  distinguish 
the  peculiar  and  different  qualities  of  the  different 
wines,  and  indicate  with  certainty  the  proper  propor- 
tions in  which  they  should  be  combined.  Nothing, 
indeed,  would  seem  more  difficult  than  to  distinguish 
readily  the  qualities  of  the  several  varieties  of  grape, 


THE    BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  23 

to  know  in  precisely  what  proportions  to  mix  the  vari- 
ous wines,  and  produce  a  Champagne  uniting  at  the 
same  time  vinosity,  bouquet,  and  the  marked,  homo- 
geneous character  which  each  wine  merchant  desires 
for  his  own  brands.  A  hundred  trials  and  failures 
are  not  unfrequently  made  before  success  is  obtained, 
and  a  wine  produced  upon  which  a  first-class  manu- 
facturer is  willing  to  stake  his  reputation. 

One  who  has  not  studied  the  subject,  or  witnessed 
the  care  and  labor  bestowed  in  the  production  of 
Champagne  wines,  can  form  no  accurate  idea  of  the 
attention  they  require,  or  of  the  different  changes  they 
undergo  before  they  are  placed  on  the  table. 

The  first  point  is,  of  course,  the  selection  and  care- 
ful examination  of  the  grapes  and  wines  of  the  differ- . 
ent  localities — and  then  the  great  art  and  mystery  of 
Champagne-making  lies  in  the  composition  of  the 
cuvee.  The  cuvee  is  the  union  of  the  various  kinds  of 
wine  in  greater  or  less  proportions,  according  to  their 
strength  and  flavor,  and  the  taste  of  the  producer. 
The  brand  of  Verzenay,  Bouzy,  or  Ay,  upon  a  bottle 
of  Champagne,  to  the  uninitiated,  conveys  the  idea 
that  the  wine  was  made  from  grapes  grown  in  the 
particular  locality  indicated.  Were  this  so,  the  wine 
would  be  very  far  from  possessing  the  qualities  which 
make  Champagne  so  popular  an  article — the  different 
cms  requiring  the  aid  of  each  other.     The  cuvee  is 


24  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

composed  about  six  months  after  the  pressing  of  the 
grapes — usually  in  the  early  part  of  April — up  to 
which  time  the  wine  has  remained  in  casks ;  the  mix- 
ture is  then  put  in  bottles,  tightly  corked,  and  placed 
in  racks,  piled  up  like  logs  of  wood,  in  the  immense 
subterranean  cellars  of  the  wine  merchant.  Here, 
under  the  influence  of  a  temperature  of  from  -50°  to 
60°  Farenheit,  it  undergoes  a  second  fermentation ; 
the  saccharine  portion  of  the  wine  is  transformed  into 
carbonic  acid  gas,  and  into  alcohol,  or  a  new  develop- 
ment of  vinosity.  Champagne  is,  of  all  wines,  how- 
ever, the  one  which  contains  the  smallest  proportions 
of  alcohol,  a  distillation  rarely  producing  more  than 
a  little  over  six  per  cent,  of  its  volume.  After  the 
alcohol,  the  most  important  ingredient  is  sugar. 

Champagne  wine  is  marked,  as  distinguished  from 
other  wines,  by  the  presence  of  a  large  quantity  of 
carbonic  acid  gas — the  escape  of  which  is  prevented 
by  hermetically  sealing  the  bottles  before  the  second 
fermentation,  by  which  it  is  developed.  The  gas  is 
indeed  so  compressed  and  confined  that  it  acquires 
the  expansive  force  of  six  atmospheres,  and  each  bot- 
tle of  wine  contains  six  times  its  volume  of  carbonic 
acid. 

Under  the  pressure  of  such  a  powerful  force,  the 
bottles,  while  lying  in  the  racks,  explode,  and  are  bro- 
ken in  considerable  quantity:  usually  amounting  to 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  25 

about  ten  per  cent,  of  the  whole.  This  breakage, 
however,  has  sometimes  reached  as  high  as  fifty,  six- 
ty, seventy,  and  in  rare  instances  even  eighty  per  cent. 
The  Champagne  merchants  are  rather  pleased  than 
otherwise  at  a  loss  of  ten  per  cent.,  as  it  exhibits  the 
fact  that  the  development  of  carbonic  acid,  which 
gives  the  wine  its  sparkling  quality,  has  been  a  good 
one. 

The  bottle  fermentation,  which  takes  place  without 
the  addition  of  any  foreign  ingredient  in  generating 
the  carbonic  acid,  also  develops  a  deposit  composed 
principally  of  tartaric  acid  and  tannin,  and  which  it  is 
necessary  to  remove.  After  the  wine,  which  in  this 
fermentation  becomes  cloudy,  begins  to  deposit  this 
sediment,  the  bottles  are  removed  from  the  horizontal 

« 

position  in  which  they  have  been  resting  in  the  racks, 
and  are  placed,  with  their  necks  downward,  upon 
shelves  with  holes  cut  in  them  obliquely.  Twice  a 
day  during  two  months,  and  frequently  for  a  longer 
time,  a  man  whose  special  business  it  is  to  attend  to 
this,  seizes  each  bottle  by  the  bottom,  gives  it  a  little 
shake  with  the  object  of  detaching  the  sediment  from 
the  side,  and  causing  it  to  deposit  in  the  neck  of  the 
bottle,  which  after  each  shaking  is  placed  in  a  more 
nearly  upright  position.  Finally  the  sediment  all  ar- 
rives in  the  neck  of  the  bottle,  the  greater  portion  of 

it  being  deposited  upon  the  cork.     The  process  of  de- 

2 


26  AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

gorgement,  or  the  extraction  of  the  deposit,  then  takes 
place.  This  operation  is  a  very  important  one,  and  re- 
quires a  great  degree  of  skill  on  the  part  of  the  oper- 
ator, who  first  seizes  the  bottle  by  the  body,  and  rest- 
ing the  neck  depressed  upon  his  left  fore-arm,  cuts  the 
wire  which  confines  the  cork ;  this  he  prevents  from 
flying  too  suddenly  with  the  index  finger  of  the  left 
hand.  The  operator  then  performs  a  manoeuvre  re- 
quiring great  dexterity :  raising  the  bottle,  with  a 
pair  of  pincers  he  suddenly  pulls  the  cork,  which,  in 
flying  out,  carries  with  it,  and  is  followed  by,  all  the 
deposit.  Freed  from  this,  the  wine  is  perfectly  clear 
and  limpid,  the  bottle  then  containing  not  the  slightest 
particle  of  sediment. 

The  wine,  however,  is  not  yet  in  a  drinkable  con- 
dition. The  greater  portion  of  its  saccharine  matter 
having  been  transformed  into  alcohol  and  carbonic  acid, 
the  wine  itself  is  acidulous,  and  disagreeable  to  the  taste. 
It  is  therefore  necessary,  in  order  to  replace  the  sugar 
which  it  has  thus  lost,  and  to  restore  it  in  this  respect 
to  its  primitive  condition,  to  introduce  a  mixture  in 
greater  or  less  quantity  of  pure  crystallized  sugar  dis- 
solved in  Champagne  wine:  the  quantity  of  sugar 
added  depending  upon  the  country  to  which  the  wine 
is-  to  be  sent,  and  the  taste  of  purchasers.  The  cork 
is  then  put  in,  and  in  a  month  or  six  weeks  after  the 
degorgement  the  wine  is  ready  for  market. 


THE   BUBBLES  OF   CHAMPAGNE.  27 

It  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  the  drinkers  of 
Champagne  to  know  what  is  the  actual  cost  to  the 
exporting  merchant  of  the  article  for  which  they  pay 
so  much. 

The  Champagne  of  commerce  may  be  divided  into 
three  classes,  each  representing  a  different  quality. 
The  via  brut,  or  raw  wine  of  the  ordinary  quality, 
costs  on  an  average  one  franc  and  twenty-five  centimes 
per  bottle ;  the  middling,  from  one  franc  and  fifty  to 
one  franc  and  seventy-five  centimes ;  and  the  superior, 
from  one  franc  and  seventy-five  to  two  francs  and  fif- 
teen centimes  the  bottle. 

The  cost  of  the  travail  or  composition,  including 
bottle,  cork,  and  the  necessary  admixture,  is  from  forty 
to  sixty  centimes  per  bottle.  The  corks,  all  of  which 
arc  cut  by  hand,  principally  by  Spaniards,  who  reside 
in  Reims  for  that  purpose,  cost  from  two  to  four  sous 
each.  Those  for  Russia,  where  the  Champagne  drink- 
ers are  the  most  particular  about  the  corks,  cost  the 
highest  price.  The  wine  merchants  say  that  they  are 
perfectly  satisfied  with  a  profit  of  fifty  centimes  a  bot- 
tle, which  added  to  the  price  of  the  raw  wine,  the  cost 
of  preparing  it  for  market,  and  the  small  cost  of  send- 
ing it  from  Reims  or  Epernay  to  the  port  of  embar- 
kation, makes  up  the  figure  at  which  the  merchants 
have  always  invoiced  their  wine. 

The  finest  and  must  expensive  wines  are  sent  to 


28  AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 

Russia.  For  England  a  much  heavier  wine  is  made, 
as  also  for  the  United  States,  where  a  very  "vinous" 
wine  seems  to  be  preferred,  and  whither  very  little 
first-quality  wine  is  exported.  A  great  many  drink- 
ers, rather  than  connoisseurs,  prefer  Champagne  of  a 
very  dry  and  vinous  character.  This  is  a  great  error, 
as  this  dry  and  vinous  characteristic  is  almost  always 
obtained  by  the  addition  to  the  liqueur,  with  which  the 
bottles  are  filled  after  the  degorgement,  of  a  greater  or 
less  quantity  of  brandy.  Thus  composed,  the  wine  no 
longer  possesses  the  delicate  quality  which  should  be 
considered  the  test  of  good  Champagne — which  can  be 
drank  with  impunity  without  producing  the  headache 
and  lassitude  which  invariably  follows  the  absorption 
of  the  alcoholic  wines. 

The  Champagne  manufacturers  are  the  aristocracy 
of  the  district,  and  form  a  society  of  their  own,  keep- 
ing apart  from  other  merchants  and  manufacturers, 
and  among  them — as,  for  example,  that  of  De  St.  Mar- 
ceaux — are  some  old  and  aristocratic  names.  Most  of 
them  are  very  wealthy,  and  up  to  the  present  time  all 
the  great  and  well-known  houses  have  never  been 
charged  with  any  thing  which  would  affect  their  in- 
tegrity. Parties  interested  in  these  houses  occupy 
high,  honorable,  and  important  positions  in  political 
life.  They  are  prefects  and  mayors  and  members  of 
the  Chamber  of  Deputies.     M.  Werle,  the  head  of 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  29 

the  house  of  Yve.  Clicquot,  and  who  is  supposed  to 
be  worth  fifteen  millions  of  francs,  is  the  Mayor  of 
Eeims,  and  member  from  this  district  of  the  Corps 
Legislatif.  He  is  a  Prussian  by  birth,  and  came  to 
Reims  some  thirty  years  ago  a  poor  young  man,  and 
has  gradually  worked  his  way  up  to  his  present  posi- 
tion. His  principal,  the  Widow  Clicquot  (God  bless 
her!),  is  now  in  her  eighty-eighth  year,  and  has  made 
during  the  last  thirty  years  a  fortune  of  forty  mil- 
lions of  francs  by  the  manufacture  and  sale  of  wine. 
She  is  a  little  dried-up  old  lady,  only  about  five  feet 
high,  and  lives  in  a  splendid  chateau,  charmingly  situa- 
ted on  a  hillside,  surrounded  with  vines,  at  Boursault, 
near  Epernay.-  The  old  lady,  though  she  long  since 
gave  up  all  personal  control  of  her  wine  manufactur- 
ing business,  still  manages  the  grape-growing,  keeps 
her  own  farm  and  household  accounts,  drinks  a  good 
bottle  of  Veuve  Cliquot  every  day  for  dinner,  and  is 
a  particularly  smart  old  lady.  M.  Werle  has  a  son 
married  to  the  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Montebcllo 
(also  of  vinous  fame),  and  a  daughter  who  married  a 
son  of  M.  Magne,  the  French  Minister  of  Finance. 

Singularly  enough,  although  such  a  peculiarly 
French  wine,  about  all  the  trade  in  it  has  now  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Germans.  M.  "Werle  is  a  German, 
as  is  also  the  Baron  de  Saxe,  his  associate.  The  Heid- 
seicks,  of  whom   there  are  three  separate  houses  at 


30  AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

Eeims — Piper  Heidseick,  Heidseick  &  Co.,  and  Charles 
Heidseick,  are  all  of  German  origin,  as  also  is  M.  Piper, 
who  obtained  the  right  of  joining  the  name  of  Heid- 
seick to  his  by  marrying  a  daughter  of  the  original 
Heidseick  house.  The  Mumms  are  also  Germans.  The 
purely  French  houses,  such  as  Eugene  Clicquot  and  M. 
de  St.  Marceaux,  nearly  all  have  Germans  connected 
with  them.  This  has  been  explained  to  me  as  result- 
ing from  the  fact  that  in  the  Champagne  trade  it  was 
necessary  to  be  familiar  with  several  languages ;  and 
that  as  the  French  as  a  nation  never  learn  any  tongue 
but  their  own,  the  Germans,  who  are  the  best  linguists 
in  Europe,  have  worked  their  way  into  the  trade  un- 
til now  they  threaten  to  monopolize  it. 

Some  excellent  red  still  wines  are  made  in  the  Cham- 
pagne districts,  bearing  the  names  of  Villedomange, 
Hilly,  Marsilly,  Verzenay,  and  Bouzy,  the  latter  being 
a  wine  of  full  body  and  flavor,  very  much  resembling 
Chambertin,  and  selling  here  at  nine  hundred  francs 
the  "  piece  "  or  cask,  or  at  the  rate  of  about  four  francs 
a  bottle.  At  my  hotel  at  Eeims  it  is  retailed  at  sev- 
en, and  this  is  the  price  charged  also  by  mine  host  for 
all  the  sparkling  Champagne  wines,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Royal  St.  Marceaux,  one  of  the  purest,  rich- 
est, and  most  delicate  of  the  Champagne  wines,  which 
he  holds  at  eight. . 

Most  of  the  wine  merchants  have  their  cellars  be- 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  ol 

neath  their  houses ;  and  these  immense  subterranean 
caverns  are  some  of  them  two  or  three  flights  of  stairs 
in  height,  or  rather  in  depth,  the  lowest  part  being  at 
least  ninety  feet  under  ground.  I  rode  over  to  Eper- 
nay,  which  is  about  an  hour  by  rail  from  Eeims,between 
hills  covered  and  reaching  to  the  very  rails  with  the 
Champagne  vine,  passing  by  the  little  village  of  Ay, 
nestled  in  among  vine-clad  hills  extending  down  to  the 
banks  of  the  sleepy,  sluggish  Marne.  We  came  over 
to  visit  the  cellars  of  Messrs.  Moet  &  Chandon,  which 
are  as  extensive  as  any  in  the  district.  Going  down 
a  flight  of  stone  steps,  we  reached  a  little  room,  where 
the  guide  furnished  us  with  candles,  and  preceding  us, 
led  us  through  these  catacombs  of  Champagne.  The 
vaults  are  cut  in  the  solid  rock,  having  been  made  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  and  are  between  five  and 
six  miles  in  extent,  winding  around  in  labyrinthine 
mazes,  and  consisting  of  two  sets  of  tunnels,  one  hewn 
under  the  other.  In  all  these,  bottles  of  Champagne  to 
the  number  of  about  5,000,000  were  piled  up  in  racks, 
the  butts  toward  us,  and  many  of  them  covered  with 
the  mould  which  we  could  easily  imagine  would  soon 
cover  every  thing  left  long  in  that  damp,  dank  atmos- 
phere. Occasionally  we  came  upon  men  working, 
bottling  and  corking  and  "  disgorging"  and  "  dosing" 
the  wine.  Eight  men,  the  guide  informed  us,  could 
bottle  1200  a  day.     The  workmen  receive  five  franci 


32  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

• 

per  day  for  their  labor,  which,  considering  that  they 
usually  die  of  diseases  necessarily  contracted  in  that 
horrible  atmosphere  before  they  reach  the  age  of  forty, 
certainly  can  not  be  considered  high. 

Song  and  story  have  thrown  so  much  romance 
about  vine-growing  regions  and  their  inhabitants, 
that  one  who  gathers  his  ideas  of  them  from  song 
and  story  is  liable  to  imbibe  very  false  views.  This 
Champagne  district,  for  example,  in  which  the  un- 
initiated and  enthusiastic  lover  of  nature  and  of  ro- 
mance would  hope  and  expect  to  find  beautiful  land- 
scapes, broad  and  smiling  plains,  verdant  river-banks, 
and  green  and  sunny  hillsides,  all  covered  with  a  lux- 
uriant growth  of  the  vine,  and  peopled  with  a  hardy, 
happy  race,  whose  principal  occupation  after  the  la- 
bors of  the  day  is  to  dance  and  make  love,  and,  in 
overflowing  foaming  flagons,  sing  Anacreontic  songs 
in  honor  of  the  vine,  will  very  much  disappoint  him 
in  the  reality.  The  soil  of  this  whole  district  is  white 
and  chalky,  abounding  in  carbonate  of  lime,  which 
makes  it  very  disagreeable  to  the  eye. 

This  calcareous  soil  seems  particularly  adapted  to 
the  growth  of  the  vine,  the  culture  of  which  is  more 
easy,  as  the  earth  is  light,  and  without  compactness. 
In  fact,  upon  these  light  calcareous  soils,  nothing  but 
the  vine  will  flourish.  The  country  is  generally  flat 
and  little  diversified,  and  when  I  saw  it,  after  the  vint- 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  33 

age  was  past,  and  the  stripped  vines  were  rapidly 
falling  into  the  "  sere  and  yellow,"  it  was  particularly 
uninteresting. 

The  vintage  does  not  usually  commence  until 
about  the  middle  of  September,  but  sometimes  it  is 
completed  by  that  time  in  consequence  of  the  dry, 
warm  weather,  which  hastens  the  ripening  of  the 
grape. 

The  "  vignerons  "  and  their  families  are  very  much 
like  the  other  peasantry  in  France,  living  in  uncom- 
fortable stone  houses,  with  neither  front  nor  back 
yards  to  them,  totally  destitute  of  vines,  flowers,  or 
shrubbery,  or  any  of  that  air  of  comfort  about  them 
which  so  strikes  the  traveller  in  the  home  of  the  En- 
glish cottager.  In  the  whole  agricultural  region  of 
France  the  traveller  sees,  as  he  journeys  along  the 
road,  no  solitary  farm-houses.  He  travels  miles  and 
miles  over  cultivated  lands  without  a  mark  upon  them 
of  habitation,  until  he  reaches  a  village,  made  up  of 
a  long,  straggling  street,  which  is  but  a  continuation 
of  the  high-road,  and  on  each  side  of  which  are  built 
the  little,  uncomfortable,  unromantic,  hot-looking  stone 
houses  in  which  the  peasantry  of  France  live.  Cham- 
pagne, in  this  respect,  does  not  differ  from  the  rest  of 
France  ;  and  the  fact  that  there  are  no  fences  or  even 
hedges  to  separate  the  vine-growing  lands  from  the 
roadside  or  from  each  other,  the  "  motes  and  bounds" 

2* 


34  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 

of  each  little  proprietor's  land  being  marked  by  piles 
of  stones — gives  the  country  a  singularly  monotonous 
appearance.  Song  and  story  usually  convey  the  idea 
that  the  people  in  vine-growing  regions  are  not  only 
exceedingly  happy,  but  exceedingly  virtuous ;  in  fact, 
living  evidences  of  the  truth  of  the  motto,  "  Be  vir- 
tuous, and  you' will  be  happy." 

So  far  as  the  female  portion  of  the  laboring  class 
of  the  residents  of  the  Champagne  district  is  concern- 
ed, I  am  sorry  to  be  under  the  necessity  of  dispelling 
this  illusion.  Is  it  some  peculiarity  in  the  climate, 
or  the  chalky  soil  which  reflects  back  the  sun's  rays 
with  such  burning  force ;  or  is  it  something  in  the 
wine,  that  makes  Eeims,  the  great  commercial,  centre 
of  Champagne,  one  of  the  most  eligible  fields  of  op- 
eration for  the  labors  of  the  Moral  Eeform  Society 
that  I  have  ever  discovered  in  France  or  out  of  it  ? 
These  tall,  well-formed,  and  pretty  Champenoises  who 
"have  left  their  father's  house"  and  the  labor  in  the 
vineyards,  and  come  to  Eeims  to  work  at  dress-mak- 
ing, or  to  tend  shop,  or  labor  in  the  woollen  manu- 
factories here,  and  who,  with  little  bundles  in  their 
hands,  neatly  dressed,  with  their  rich,  luxuriant  growth 
of  hair  unconfined  by  cap  or  bonnet,  may  be  seen  in 
great  numbers  skipping  over  the  trottoirs  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  evening,  on  their  way  home  from  work 
— these  young  ladies,  although  apparently  very  "  hap- 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  35 

py,"  and  certainly  exceedingly  pretty,  it  is  said  make 
no  claims  to  being  "  virtuous."  The  cure  who  offici- 
ates in  the  splendid  cathedral,  whose  tall,  heaven- 
pointing  towers  ought  to  direct  the  attention  of  these 
young  women  to  higher  things,  is  said  to  be  called 
upon  much  more  frequently  to  baptize  infants  who 
in  the  worldly  wisdom  of  knowing  their  own  fathers 
are  profoundly  lacking,  than  he  is  of  those  begotten 
and  born  in  accordance  with  the  strict  rules  of  pro- 
priety, virtue,  law,  and  the  Church.  These  are  mel- 
ancholy facts,  and  may  furnish  interesting  subjects  of 
consideration  to  moral  chemists  and  analyzers.  "What 
is  the  cause  of  it  ?  Is  it  the  wine,  the  chalky  soil, 
the  burning  sun,  or  the  cathedral? 

The  highest-priced  wines  made  in  Champagne  are 
those  of  L.  Koederer  &  Co.,  most  of  which  go  to  Eus- 
sia.  In  fact,  the  Widow  Clicquot  and  Koederer  have 
almost  the  entire  monopoly  of  the  Champagne  trade 
in  that  country,  not  so  much  perhaps  from  the  supe- 
riority of  their  wines  as  owing  to  the  fact  that  there 
the  merchant  is  subjected  to  a  heavy  additional  tax  for 
each  additional  house  from  which  he  imports.  The 
wines  sent  to  Germany,  although  less  sweet  than  those 
which  go  to  Russia,  are  generally  of  the  same  character. 
The  consumption  of  Champagne  wines  in  France,  rel- 
ative to  that  in  other  countries,  is  extremely  small — an- 
other evidence  of  the  fact  that  "  a  prophet  is  nut  with- 


36  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

* 

out  honor  excepting  in  his  own  country."  In  Eeims 
itself  it  is  not  drunk  to  any  great  extent.  At  the 
tables  of  the  "  Champagne  Kings  "  dinner  is  usually 
commenced  with  a  via  du  pays,  an  ordinary  wine  of 
the  country,  followed  up  with  a  Burgundy  or  Bor- 
deaux ;  and  about  the  time  the  roti  comes  on  the  table 
the  Champagne  is  produced,  and,  as  a  general  rule,  is 
served  but  two  or  three  times  to  each  guest.  It  is 
always  served  in  long  and  very  thin,  and  never  in 
flat  glasses. 

In  Spain,  Italy,  and  Switzerland,  comparatively 
little  Champagne  is  drunk,  while  in  Belgium  it  is 
consumed  in  large  quantities,  the  most  popular  brands 
being  those  of  L.  Eoederer,  Yve.  Clicquot,  and  De  St. 
Marceaux.  The  "  dry  est,"  most  vinous  wines,  are 
shipped  to  England,  where,  in  point  of  importance  (in 
quantity  sent),  the  brands  rank  as  follows:  Moet  & 
Chandon,  Perrier,  Jouet,  Widow  Clicquot,  L.  Eoederer, 
De  St.  Marceaux  &  Co.,  Piper  &  Co.,  Jules  Mumm, 
Giesler  &  Co.,  Euinart  pere  et  fils,  Bollinger  &  Co.  In 
point  of  reputation,  the  wines  exported  to  England 
rank,  however,  in  the  following  order :  L.  Eoederer, 
De  St.  Marceaux,  Widow  Clicquot,  Perrier,  Jouet,  Pi- 
per &  Co.,  Bollinger  &  Co.  The  wines  exported  to 
the  United  States  are  made  expressly  for  that  mar- 
ket, and  are  usually  of  a  "  dry,"  vinous  description. 
The  house  of  L.  Eoederer,  whose  wine  is  held  in  such 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  37 

high  repute,  exports  very  little  to  any  American  port 
but  Boston. 

Champagne  wines  are  usually  considered  the  best 
about  three  years  after  the  vintage ;  after  they  attain 
the  age  of  six  or  seven  years  they  begin  to  deterio- 
rate. With  a  little  practical  information  relative  to 
the  preservation,  and  the  proper  mode  and  time  of 
preparing  Champagne  for  the  table  and  of  drinking 
it,  I  close  the  "  vinous  "  portion  of  this  chapter.  The 
following  is  in  the  form  of  a  circular,  issued  by  the 
house  of  De  St.  Marceaux  &  Co.  to  their  customers  : 

"  To  preserve  the  effervescence  and  the  quality  of 
Champagne,  it  is  indispensable  to  keep  the  bottles  ly- 
ing down  in  a  cool  cellar; 

"Lying  doivn,  because  in  any  other  position  the 
cork  becomes  dry,  loses  its  elasticity,  and  permits  the 
gas  to  escape ; 

"  In  a  cool  cellar,  because  from  the  effect  of  heat  the 
gas,  in  expanding,  may  break  the  bottle,  or,  at  least, 
spoil  the  cork ;  in  which  latter  case,  there  is  a  certain 
loss,  and  always  a  notable  change  in  the  quality  of 
the  wine. 

"  In  order  that  Champagne  may  be  drunk  in  the  best 
condition,  it  should  befrajipe,  or  cooled  with  ice,  or  in 
case  there  is  no  ice,  it  ought  not  to  be  brought  up  from 
the  cellar  except  at  the  moment  that  it  is  to  be  drunk. 
Many  persons  arc  in  the  habit  of  cooling  their  Chain- 


38  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

pagpe,  by  emptying  it  into  a  decanter  of  frozen  water, 
or  by  putting  into  the  glass  of  wine  some  pieces  of  ice. 
Both  of  these  practices  evidently  weaken  and  alter  the 
character  of  the  wine,  since  they  add  to  it  more  or  less 
water. 

"  Ordinarily  Champagne  is  used  as  a  dessert  wine  ; 
this  is  a  gastronomic  error;  it  should  be  served  with 
the  meats,  when  the  palate,  properly  stimulated  but 
not  yet  satiated,  is  able  to  appreciate  the  delicate  fla- 
vor of  the  wine  in  all  its  fineness." 

My  window  in  the  "  Lion  d'0r"  was  directly  op- 
posite the  fagade  of  the  noble  Cathedral  of  Reims. 
This  edifice,  in  point  of  completeness  and  unity  of  de- 
sign, united  with  elegance  and  beauty  in  execution,  is 
the  finest,  I  think,  of  the  Gothic  ecclesiastical  edifices 
of  France.  Unlike  most  of  these,  it  was  the  design  of 
a  single  mind,  and  was  commenced  and  finished  under 
the  eye  of  the  designer.  It  is  said  that  a  Christian 
church  was  erected  upon  the  spot  now  occupied  by  the 
cathedral,  in  the  year  401,  upon  the  ruins  of  a  temple 
of  Yenus  or  Cybele.  Clovis,  the  first  of  the  Christian 
kings  of  France,  is  supposed  to  have  been  here  bap- 
tized by  St.  Eemy.  In  1210  the  building  was  destroy- 
ed by  fire,  and  the  present  edifice  commenced  the  fol- 
lowing year,  in  accordance  with  the  designs  of,  and  un- 
der the  supervision  of,  the  architect,  Robert  de  Coucy, 
of  Reims.     It  was  completed  in  thirty  years,  and,  with 


THE    BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  39 

the  exception  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  commenced  and 
finished  in  thirty-five  years  by  Christopher  Wren,  it  is 
the  only  ecclesiastical  structure  of  any  note  in  Europe 
which  has  been  completed  during  the  life  of  the  de- 
signer. St.  Peter's  in  Eome  required  one  hundred  and 
forty-five  years,  and  its  erection  ran  through  the  reigns 
of  nineteen  popes,  and  employed  the  services  of  twelve 
successive  architects.  In  1481  another  fire  occurred, 
which  destroyed  the  roof  and  melted  33,000  pounds 
of  bell-metal.  In  1791  the  Convention  caused  to  be 
placed  over  the  main  portal  of  the  cathedral  the  fol- 
lowing inscription  :  "  Temple  of  Reason — The  French 
People  recognize  a  Supreme  Being  and  the  Immor- 
tality of  the  Soul."  This  was  obliterated  six  years  aft- 
erward, and  the  cathedral  restored  to  its  original  use. 
The  exterior  is  adorned  with  statues  and  bas-re- 
liefs ;  nearly  six  hundred  of  the  former  surrounding 
the  three  magnificent  portals  in  the  facade.  Over  the 
side  door  is  a  design  which,  in  spite  of  the  seriousness 
of  the  subject,  struck  me  as  inexpressibly  funny.  It 
is  intended  to  represent  the  "Last  Judgment,"  and 
the  Divine  Judge  is  seated  in  a  large  arm-chair,  while 
around  and  below  him  are  rising  from  their  coffins 
(which  resemble  stone  bathing-tubs)  the  dwellers  upon 
earth,  in  different  stages  of  nudity.  On  the  left,  a  long- 
tailed  and  horned  devil  is  pitching  head  foremost  into 
a  caldron  below,  and  around  which  flames  are  rising, 


40  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

an  unfortunate  youth  who  was  found  on  the  left  side, 
but  whose  chance  of  boiling  seemed  rather  small,  as 
the  caldron  was  already  full  to  running  over  with 
little  unbaptized  babies.  Another  devil  was  drawing 
toward  the  caldron,  by  a  long  chain  which  he  had 
thrown  around  them,  a  number  of  monks  and  priests. 

The  interior  is  marvellously  rich  and  beautiful,  the 
light  streaming  through  the  rose  and  stained  windows 
in  many-colored  hues.  The  grand  rose  of  the  facade 
is  unquestionably  the  finest  in  France. 

But  it  was  from  its  historical  associations  that  the 
interior  of  this  grand  and  gorgeous  temple  was  in- 
teresting to  me.  It  was  here  that  all  the  kings  of 
France,  from  Philip  Augustus,  in  1179,  to  Charles  the 
Tenth,  with  the  exception  of  Henry  the  Fourth  and 
Louis  the  Eighteenth,  were  crowned.  Could  these 
massive  stone  pillars  be  animated  with  life,  what  tales 
could  they  tell,  what  graphic  descriptions  give  of  the 
gayly-dressed  and  gallant  courtiers',  of  the  beautiful  and 
noble  ladies,  of  the  imposing  ceremonies  which  have 
passed  before  them !  As  I  stood  in  the  chancel  of  this 
splendid  cathedral,  a  vision  rose  before  me,  and  a  pro- 
cession of  kings  and  queens  and  courtiers,  and  high- 
born, bejewelled,  fair,  and  noble  dames,  seemed  to  pass 
me  by,  and  among  them  all  shone  brightly  the  sweet, 
enthusiastic  face  of  the  inspired  Maid  of  Orleans,  who, 
with  her  sacred  banner  in  her  hand,  came  here  in  ful- 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  41 

fillment  of  her  prediction  that  she  would  see  Charles 
the  Seventh  "crowned  king  at  Keims." 

It  was  principally  due  to  the  fact  that  Eeims  was 
one  of  the  cradles  of  Christianity  in  France  that  it 
was  chosen  for  the  consecration  of  her  kings.  It  was 
here  also  that  the  Saint  Ampoule,  or  holy  flask  of  oil, 
brought  by  a  dove  from  heaven  and  given  to  St. 
Eemy  at  the  baptism  of  Clovis,  was  kept,  and  this  was 
used  at  the  consecrating  ceremonies.  This  flask  was 
publicly  broken  by  a  sans  culotte  during  the  Revolu- 
tion ;  but  by  some  means  it  was  renewed,  and  appear- 
ed again  at  the  coronation  of  Charles  the  Tenth. 

The  tribunals  of  Reims  have  a  way  of  administer- 
ing justice  which  strikes  me  rather  favorably,  and 
which  I  would  commend  to  the  attention  of  the  chalk- 
and-water  drinking  communities  in  other  parts  of  the 
world.  On  the  street  corner  opposite  my  hotel  I  ob- 
served some  freshly-printed  placards  posted  up ;  and 
as  any  thing  new  began  to  be  interesting,  I  imme- 
diately rushed  over  to  read  them.  They  proved  to  be 
some  recent  judgments  of  the  Tribunal  of  Police  in 
Reims,  and  I  would  recommend  their  perusal  to  police 
judges  and  legislators.  The  first  was  against  Fran- 
chise Marguerite  Boisse,  who,  it  seems,  probably  think- 
ing that  the  milk  which  came  from  her  cows  was  too 
rich  for  the  stomachs  of  the  Reimois,  had  added  to 
eight  litres,  or  about  two  gallons  of  it,  a  quart  of  wa- 


42  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE.     m 

ter,  and  sold  the  compound  as  milk.     This  fact  having  ^ 
been  established,  Francoise  was  sentenced  to  pay  a  fine 
of  a  hundred  francs,  suffer  the  confiscation  of  her  com- 
pound, and  to  pay  the  cost  of  fifty  copies  of  the  decree, 
which  should  be  posted  up  in  the  town,  and  one  par- 
ticularly kept  posted  upon  her  door  during  the  period 
of  three  months.     Two  other  judgments  followed  this : 
one  of  a  coal-dealer,  who,  for  putting  in  his  sacks  of 
coal  a  quantity  of  stones  to  "  make  weight,"  was  fined 
fifty  francs  and  sentenced  to  twenty  days'  imprison- 
ment ;  and  the  other  of  a  butcher,  in  whose  posses- 
sion, and  exposed  for  sale,  was  found  a  quantity  of 
meat  which  was  un  peu  trop  haut,  and  for  which  he 
was  sentenced  to  three  months'  imprisonment  and  a 
heavy  fine.     This  rigid  administration  of  j  ustice  seems 
to  apply  to  large  as  well  as  small  matters.     One  of 
the  best-known  houses  in  Eeims  is  that  of  L.  Eoederer. 
In  the  early  part  of  last  year  some  young  and  enter- 
prising men  who  desired  to  establish  themselves  in  the 
Champagne  trade,  and  who  considered  that  it  would 
be  a  great  advantage  to  them  to  commence  business 
under  the  prestige  of  a  well-known  name,  adopted  the 
following  expedient :  Finding  at  Strasbourg  a  young 
man  named  Theophile  Eoederer,  they  immediately  in- 
duced him  to  come  to  Eeims,  where  they  established 
a  house,  placing  him  at  the  head  of  it,  known  as  "Eoe- 
derer &  Co. :"  and  this  brand  was  placed  upon  their 


THE   BUBBLES   OF   CHAMPAGNE.  43 

wine.  The  old  established  house  of  Roederer  brought 
an  action  against  them  for  "  concurrence  ittegale"  or  "  il- 
legal opposition,"  and,  after  hearing  all  the  facts,  the 
Court  decided  that,  not  only  must  the  new  firm  place 
upon  their  labels  the  first  name  of  its  head,  but  must 
also  give  in  good-sized  readable  figures  the  date  at 
which  their  house  was  established,  so  that  there  would 
be  no  danger  of  confounding  it  with  the  original  firm. 
I  had  been  at  Reims  more  than  a  week,  and  it  was 
time  to  return  to  Paris.  I  took  a  last  glance  at  the 
noble  cathedra],  jumped  into  the  omnibus,  and  started 
for  the  station,  not  neglecting,  however,  to  take  a  look 
from  the  omnibus  window  at  the  pretty,  neatly-dress- 
ed, and  well  -  formed  Champenoises  as  they  tripped 
along  the  street,  and  whose  bright  eyes  and  handsome 
features  might  have  made  sad  havoc  in  the  breast  of 
a  more  susceptible  man. 


CHAPTER  II. 

TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG. 

The  Baths  of  Hombourg. — Hombourg  and  its  Surroundings. — The  In- 
ducement to  Visitors. — The  great  Gaming-hell  of  Europe. — The 
Kursaal. — The  Game  of  "Roulette." — My  early  Experiences. — 
"Systems,"  and  an  Exposure  of  their  Fallacy. — The  Scene  at  the 
Tables. — The  Rouge-et-noir. — Large  Winnings. — The  Countess 
Kisselef. — Tricks  of  Sharpers. — Profits  of  the  Games. 

HPHE  following  advertisement — in  all  the  glory  of 
-*-    staring  capitals — appears  daily  in  the  Paris  news- 
papers : 

"  The  saline,  muriatic  waters  of  Hombourg  are  recommend- 
ed by  the  most  celebrated  medical  men  as  an  efficacious  rem- 
edy against  maladies  of  the  stomach,  the  intestines,  and  the 
liver. 

"  The  calm  and  freshness  of  the  surrounding  country,  the 
sharp,  pure  air  of  the  mountains,  the  magnificence  of  the  for- 
ests, which  form  the  belt  of  Hombourg,  the  variety  of  excur- 
sions and  promenades,  all  unite  in  aiding  the  re-establishment 
of  health. 

"  The  new  Kursaal,  so  remarkable  for  its  grand  facade,  in 
the  Florentine  style,  unites  in  its  interior  the  conversation  and 
reading  rooms,  the  grand  ball  and  concert  room,  and  the  res- 
taurant. 

"  The  excellent  orchestra  performs  three  times  a  day  :  in  the 
morning,  at  the  spring ;  in  the  afternoon  and  evening,  in  the 
gardens  of  the  Kursaal. 

"  During  the  month  of  September,  Italian  opera — extraor- 
dinary representations  of  Mademoiselle  Adelina  Patti,  with  the 
aidfcof  Mesdames  Marchisio,  Trebelli,  Bellini,  etc. 

"  Foreign  families  will  find  at  Hombourg  a  great  number  of 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     45 

villas  and  hotels,  furnished  in  the  most  luxurious  and  comfort- 
able style." 

True — all  true  to  the  letter,  but,  as  the  sequel  will 
show,  not  the  whole  truth.  Hombourg  is  certainly  a 
most  charming  watering-place,  where  nature  and  art 
seem  to  have  vied  with  each  other  to  realize  the  idea 
of  an  earthly  paradise.  It  is  situated  nine  miles  from 
what  was  for  centuries,  and  has  continued  until  re- 
cently to  be,  the  "  free  city  of  Frankfort,"  the  great 
money-mart  of  the  Continent,  but  which  now,  thanks 
to  Bismarck  and  the  needle-gun,  has  degenerated  into 
a  third-rate  Prussian  town.  On  one  side  of  it  rise  the 
blue  Taunus Mountains,  from  whose  summits  invigora- 
ting breezes  blow  down,  and  on  the  other  stretches  far 
away  toward  the  Main  a  broad,  extended,  fertile  plain, 
dotted  with  pretty  farm-houses,  whose  roofs  rise  isola- 
ted, like  ships,  from  out  a  sea  of  grain.  On  the  mount- 
ain-side are  thick,  dark  forests  of  oak  and  pine,  beneath 
whose  shade  long,  level,  cool,  delightful  walks  and 
drives  lead  up  to  the  very  mountain  summit,  and  at 
convenient  distances  are  several  little  German  villages, 
in  which  the  people  still  retain  their  queer,  ancient  dress 
and  customs,  the  women  wearing  the  odd-looking  Ger- 
man cap,  and  skirts  of  even  more  than  fashionable 
brevity,  and  the  men  remarkable  swallow-tailed  blue 
coats,  with  the  waists  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the 
shoulders;  here  are  lakes,  on  whoso  fair  bosoms  swans 


46  AN  AMERICAN   JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

are  floating;  charming  little  bosquets  in  which,  without 
much  stretch  of  the  imagination,  mischievous,  wicked 
Cupids  may  be  supposed  to  flit  from  branch  to  branch ; 
parks  filled  with  tame  deer,  which  accept  with  pleasure 
their  daily  bread  from  the  hand  of  the  visitor ;  five 
mineral  springs,  whose  waters  are  recommended  as 
sovereign  in  all  diseases  of  the  stomach  and  liver :  one 
might  readily  imagine  that  all  these  advantages  of  lav- 
ish nature,  and  of  art  as  lavish,  were  sufficient  to  entice 
searchers  after  rest,  health,  or  recreation  to  Hombourg. 
But  it  is  neither  the  blue  Taunus,  nor  the  pure  air,  nor 
the  darkling  forests  of  oak,  nor  the  sweet  exhalations 
of  the  pine,  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  summer  breeze, 
nor  the  queer  caps  and  swallow-tailed  coats,  nor  the 
gardens  and  lawns,  nor  flowers,  nor  swans,  nor  Cupids, 
nor  deer,  nor  even  the  world-renowned  invigorating 
waters — it  is  not  any  or  all  of  these  combined — that 
form  the  principal  inducement  to  the  fifteen  or  twenty 
thousand  people  who  spend  a  portion  of  the  summer  at 
Hombourg.  A  more  powerful,  irresistible  attraction 
than  any  of  these — a  fascination  which,  once  yielded  to, 
holds,  and  binds,  and  charms,  until  it  destroys  its  vic- 
tim— draws  the  large  majority  of  those  who  visit  this, 
the  most  extensive  and  dangerous  of  the  public  gam- 
ing-hells  of  Europe.  And,  in  this,  the  advertisement 
fails.  No  one  unfamiliar  with  the  great  and  striking 
"  specialty  "  of  Hombourg  need  ever  imagine,  from 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     47 

its  perusal,  that  here  so  many  pockets  were  annually 
drained,  so  many  hearts  and  hopes  crushed,  so  many 
ambitions  destroyed,  so  many  bright  dreams  changed 
to  sad,  hard  realities.     Fronting  upon  the  main  street 
of  the  town,  in  the  Florentine  style  of  architecture,  is 
the  magnificent  Kursaal,  the  temple  of  Fortune.     En- 
tering a  spacious  vestibule,  treading  upon  a  floor  of  rich- 
ly-wrought mosaic,  the  visitor,  after  passing  through  a 
corridor,  suddenly  finds  himself  in  a  salon  of  palatial 
proportions  and  splendor.      The  carved  and  gilded 
walls  and  ceiling  are  massive ;  while  immense  mirrors, 
sofas,  and  chairs  of  damask,  and  heavy  curtains  of  the 
richest  satin,  line  the  sides.     A  jingling  of  gold  and 
silver  falls  upon  the  ear,  mingled  with  the  rattle  of  a 
ball ;  the  subdued  hum  of  voices  from  the  devotees, 
broken  upon  by  the  louder  tones  of  the  high-priests 
of  this  mammon  worship,  uttering  their  oft-repeated 
and  well-learned  formula,  "Faites  voire  jeu,  messieurs! 
le  jeu  est-ilfait?     Rien  ne  va  jilus /"*     As  he  crosses 
the  threshold,  the  visitor  is  expected  respectfully  and 
reverently  to  remove  his  hat,  for  he  is  in  the  inner 
temple,  the   sanctum  sanctorum  of  the  fickle   Diva, 
and  in  full  view,  at  either  end  of  the  salon,  are  her  al- 
tars— the  tables  devoted  to  rovrje-et-noir  and  roulet/' . 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  reader,  whether  "  gentle" 

*  Make  your  game,  gentlemen  !    Is  the  game  nnule  ?    Nothing  more 
go>    ' 


48  AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

or  "  simple,"  will  never  mistakenly  prove  himself  the 
latter  by  indulging  in  and  yielding  to  the  fascinations 
of  either  of  these  games.  And  if  "  forewarned  is  to  be 
forearmed,"  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  he  do ;  for  I 
have  had  experience  in  both  and  in  others,  and,  in  my 
pride  of  youth,  fondly  believed  that  I  could  circum- 
vent, and  coax,  and  win  to  my  embraces  the  blind 
goddess,  "  who  flatters  but  to  destroy."  I  shall  never 
forget  my  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  roulette.  It 
was  many  years  ago,  upon  a  Long  Island  race-course, 
where  an  individual  in  a  white  hat,  half  covered  with 
crape,  a  very  flash  vest  and  extravagant  guard-chain, 
was  inviting  custom  by  the  not  very  attractive  assur- 
ance to  his  prospective  victims  that  "the  more  they 
put  down,  the  less  they  would  pick  up."  So  far  as 
the  fact  was  concerned,  he  was  perfectly  correct,  and 
it  must  have  been  that  there  was  a  vein  of  honesty 
running  through  his  nature  which  would  not  permit 
him  to  lend  himself  to  a  deception.  The  wheel  he 
used  was  a  "twenty-eight  roulette,"  with  "advan- 
tages" to  the  bank  of  a  "single"  and  "  double  zero," 
and  an  "  eagle  " — three  in  thirty-one,  or  a  little  less 
than  ten  per  cent.  But  when  it  is  understood  that, 
besides  these  apparent  and  legitimate  advantages,  the 
wheel  was  what  is  known  to  the  initiated  as  a  "snap- 
per," and  that  by  simply  touching  a  little  concealed 
spring  the  honest  individual  in  the   white   hat  and 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     49 

flash  vest  could  cause  the  ball  to  drop  into  "  red  "  or 
"  black "  at  pleasure,  it  requires  no  very  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  doctrine  of  probabilities  to  perceive 
that  the  prospect  of  winning  at  that  game  was  "poor 
indeed."  I  know  that  all  the  pocket-money  I  had 
been  saving  for  months  disappeared  like  dew  in  a 
June  morning,  and  that  I  was  obliged  to  content  my- 
self with  short  commons  of  candy  and  cinnamon  ci- 
gars for  a  long  time  afterward. 

It  is  not  probable  that  at  Hombourg  the  game  of 
roulette  is  played  with  such  a  certainty  of  profit  to  the 
bank  and  loss  to  the  player,  but,  on  the  contrary,  the 
legitimate  advantages  are  considerably  less  than  they 
are  at  Baden-Baden,  where  the  "  percentage  "  of  the 
bank  is  derived  from  a  "  single  "  and  "  double  zero," 
while  at  Hombourg  the  former  only  militates  against 
the  player.  The  game  is  played  upon  a  long  table, 
covered  with  green  cloth,  around  which  the  players 
sit  or  stand.  In  the  centre  of  the  table  is  a  large  hole, 
in  which  the  roulette  is  fixed.  This  consists  of  a  mov- 
able cylinder,  the  periphery  of  which  is  divided  into 
thirty-seven  compartments,  severally  numbered  from 
0  to  36,  and  separated  from  each  other  by  little  wires 
of  brass.  The  cylinder  is  put  in  motion  by  a  push 
against  one  of  the  four  branches,  forming  a  cross,  which 
surmounts  it.     During  its  movement  a  little  ivory  ball 

is  thrown  in  the  opposite  direction  ;  and  this  spinning 

3 


50  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

round  for  a  minute  or  more  upon  the  immovable  part 
of  the  apparatus,  finally  falls  into  one  of  the  thirty- 
seven  compartments.  These,  besides  containing  each 
a  number,  alternate  in  color— one  being  "  red,"  the 
next  "  black,"  and  so  around  the  entire  circumference 
of  the  cvlinder.  Upon  the  number  into  which  the  ball 
falls  depends  the  winning  or  losing  of  all  the  stakes 
upon  the  table. 

At  either  end  of  the  tapis  vert,  on  each  side  of  the 
cylinder,  the  thirty-seven  numbers  which  it  contains 
are  painted  in  three  columns,  and  the  other  chances 
which  may  be  staked  upon  designated.  The  diagram 
on  the  opposite  page,  exhibiting  the  roulette  and  the 
tapis  vert,  will  show  the  arrangement  of  the  numbers 
and  the  other  chances  of  the  game,  and  a  reference 
to  it  will  render  perfectly  intelligible  the  explanations 
which  are  to  follow. 

Now  although,  at  first  view,  roulette  appears  to  be 
an  exceedingly  complicated  game,  it  is  in  reality  a  very 
simple  one.  The  basis  of  it — the  principle  on  which 
it  depends — is  the  evident  fact  that  the  ball,  having 
been  whirled  by  the  finger  of  the  operator  around  the 
cylinder,  must  finally  fall  into  one  of  the  compartments 
of  the  wheel ;  of  these  there  are  thirty-seven,  and  the 
object  of  the  player,  who  wishes  to  bet  upon  single 
numbers,  is  of  course  to  hit  the  winning  one.  In  order 
10  simplify  the  explanation  of  the  chances  at  roulette, 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     51 


bx 

0 

1          2 

fanque. 
8 

3 

b       % 

4         5 

6 

7     1     8 

9 

10   I    11 

12 

a. 
Impair. 

13       14 

15 

16       17 

18 

19       20 

21 

22       23 

24 

Rouge. 

25       26 

27 

f     % 

28       29 

30 

31       32 

33 

34      35 

36 

IstD 

(■n 

2dD[3dD 
C*)    (0 

1st  C2d  C 

3d  C 
(0 

1  stl ) 

2dD 

3dD 
(9 

(a)  "  Outs  "(manque),  from  one  to  eighteen,  inclusive ;  (b)  "  pasl  " 

(jmssi),  from  eighteen  to  thirty-six,  inclusive  ;  (V)  even  numbers  (pair) ; 

(d)odd  numbers  (impair) ;  (e)  red  (iinnjc  or  com&  '«•) ;  (f)  black  (>wir) ; 

I  lirsr  twelve  numbers;  (h)  second  twelve  numbers ;  (i)third  twelve 

numbers;  (j)  first  column ;  (k)  second  column ;  (1)  third  column. 


52  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

let  it  be  supposed  that  a  florin — the  smallest  sum  per- 
mitted to  be  staked  at  Hombourg — be  placed  by  thirty- 
seven  different  players,  one  upon  each  number  on  the 
tapis.  One  of  these  must  evidently  be  the  winning 
number,  while  all  the  rest  must  lose.  Let  it  be  sup- 
posed that  the  ball,  after  spinning  until  it  loses  its  mo- 
mentum, drops  into  compartment  "  six,"  which  is  de- 
clared the  winning  number.  The  croupier  then  takes 
the  florin  from  each  one  of  the  other  numbers,  amount- 
ing to  thirty-six  florins,  and  pays  thirty -five  of  them 
to  the  fortunate  better  upon  "  six,"  the  winning  num- 
ber. Were  the  game  a  perfectly  even  one,  did  the 
bank  have  no  "advantage"  other  than  the  player,  it 
will  be  readily  seen  that  the  latter  should  in  this  case 
receive  thirty-six  instead  of  thirty-five  florins.  But 
here  is  exhibited  the  "  percentage,"  which  exists  in  all 
banking  games,  and  which  at  Hombourg  provides  the 
means  for  gilding  and  furnishing  these  splendid  salons, 
and  keeping  in  order  these  magnificent  gardens.  This 
"percentage,"  as  will  be  seen,  is  one  in  thirty-seven,  or 
two  and  twenty-six  thirty-sevenths  per  cent.  To  make 
still  plainer  this  matter  of  "percentage"  which  ob- 
tains in  all  banking  games,  and  which  is  but  little  un- 
derstood by  the  uninitiated,  let  it  be  supposed  that  a 
single  player  at  roulette  should  place  an  equal  amount, 
say  one  florin,  upon  each  number  from  zero  to  thirty- 
six,  inclusive,  it  is  evident  that  he  will  win  upon  one, 


TRENTE  ET  QUARAXTE  AT  HOMBOUKG.     53 

and  lose  on  all  the  others.  Now  were  the  game  play- 
ed without  any  "  percentage  "  or  "  advantage  "  to  the 
bank,  the  banker  should  take  the  money  from  each  and 
all  of  the  losing  numbers,  and  place  it  upon  the  win- 
ning one.  The  player  would  then  receive  thirty-six 
florins  in  addition  to  the  one  he  placed  upon  the  win- 
ning number ;  and  this  making  up  the  amount  he  had 
staked  upon  them  all,  he  might  thus  continue  playing 
without  profit  or  loss  to  the  end  of  time.  But  as  at 
present  the  game  is  arranged,' the  player  would  lose 
one  florin  at  each  turn  of  the  wheel,  and  in  this  man- 
ner the  bank  would,  sooner  or  later,  eat  up  the  largest 
capital,  without  the  player  having  the  slightest  possi- 
ble chance  of  winning.  Now  although,  of  course,  no 
player  would  be  silly  enough  to  bet  in  this  manner, 
where  it  is  palpable  that  he  must  lose  and  can  not  win, 
it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that,  even  though  he  bet  upon 
but  a  single  number,  this  same  percentage,  or  advan- 
tage, of  the  bank,  which  can  not  in  any  manner  be 
avoided,  still  remains,  and  that  it  must  in  time  absorb 
his  capital  in  the  bank.  Suppose  a  player  to  bet  upon 
a  single  number  during  a  whole  day,  week,  month,  or 
year; — now  the  probability  is,  that,  as  there  are  thirt}'- 
seven  numbers,  one  of  which  must  win  at  each  turn 
of  the  wheel,  each  one  will  make  its  appearance  once 
in  thirty-seven  times.  But  should  this  be  literally 
exemplified   in  the  turning  of  the  wheel,  our  player 


54  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

in  each  series  of  thirty-seven,  during  which  he  would 
lose  thirty-six  times  and  win  once,  would  still  be  the 
loser  of  one  florin  ;  as  in  the  thirty-six  times  that  he 
lost  he  would  lose  thirty -six  florins,  while  the  one  win- 
ning would  bring  him  back  but  thirty -five.  Of  course 
the  chances  never  run  so  regularly  as  they  are  sup- 
posed to  do  in  this  case,  but  it  none  the  less  illustrates 
the  principle. 

Besides  betting  upon  a  single  number,  the  player 
may  divide  his  stakes  among  several ;  may  bet  upon 
any  of  the  three  columns,  containing  twelve  numbers 
each,  or  upon  the  first,  second,  or  third  series  of  twelve 
numbers,  being  paid  double  if  he  win,  or  may  play 
upon  rouge  or  noir,  pair  or  impair,  which  , designate 
the  odd  or  even  numbers  upon  manque  and  passe,  the 
former  comprising  the  numbers  from  one  to  eighteen, 
inclusive,  the  latter,  from  nineteen  to  thirty-six. 

It  is  a  singular  scene,  one  of  these  gaming-tables. 
Around  it,  from  eleven  in  the  morning  until  eleven 
at  night,  sit  or  stand  the  players,  an  exceedingly 
"mixed  "  assemblage,  gazing  with  covetous  eyes  upon 
the  piles  of  gold  and  silver  placed  before  the  bankers, 
and  watching  with  intensest  interest  the  fluctuating 
chances  of  the  game.  There  are  males  and  females, 
old  and  young,  leaders  in  the  grand  monde,  and  leaders 
and  satellites  in  the  demi-monde;  people  who  play  be- 
cause they  have  plenty  of  money,  and  wish  to  amuse 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     55 

themselves,  and  people  who  play  because  they  have  but 
little  money,  and  want  more.  There  are  noblemen 
and  titled  ladies  in  abundance,  and  there  are  trades- 
men and  professional  men  and  gamblers,  all  sitting  or 
standing,  and  elbowing,  and  brought  into  the  closest 
contact  with  each  other.  There  are  hard-faced  people, 
men  and  women,  sitting  at  the  tables,  who  live  year  in 
and  out  at  Hombourg,  and  make  gambling  a  profes- 
sion. These  are  usually  persons  who  have  small,  fixed 
incomes,  and  who  flatter  themselves  that  they  have 
discovered  "  systems "  by  which  the  games  can  be 
beaten,  and  the  cruel  divinity  of  chance  circumvented, 
and  who  frequently  sit  for  hours  carefully  noting  the 
numbers  as  they  appear  at  roulette,  or  pricking  with  a 
pin  upon  cards  furnished  for  the  purpose  the  winning 
color  at  rouge-et-noir,  waiting  for  the  combination  to 
arrive  which  is  embraced  in  their  "  system." 

These  "systems"  for  winning  at  the  bank  are  nu- 
merous, but  are  all  based  upon  the  fallacy  that  chance 
is  guided  by  law,  which,  if  there  be  any  such  thing 
as  "  chance,"  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  The  simplest 
and  most  apparent  "system"  for  winning  at  a  bank- 
ing game — one  which  appears  palpable  and  positive 
to  the  uninitiated  player — is  that  of  commencing  with 
a  small  stake,  and  doubling  it  until  it  wins,  when  it 
is  evident  that  the  player  will  be  the  gainer  by  the 
amount  of  his  original    stake.     But  there  are   three 


56  AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

formidable  obstacles  barring  the  way  to  the  success  of 
this  plan ;  could  these  be  removed,  the  plan  would  be 
an  excellent  one,  and  one  which  would  assuredly  ruin 
all  the  gaming-tables  of  the  world.  The  first  of  these 
is  the  lack  of  sufficient  capital  to  enable  an  ordinary 
player  to  endure  the  losses.  Suppose  a  player  at  rou- 
lette, for  example,  in  the  application  of  this  "system," 
should  commence  by  staking  a  five-franc  piece  upon 
one  of  the  "  simple  chances,"  say,  to  simplify  the  mat- 
ter, upon  "  red,"  and  suppose  that  "  red  "  should  lose, 
as  red  or  black  not  unfrequently  does,  twenty  times  in 
succession  ; — his  last  stake  would,  in  this  case,  amount 
to  2,621,440  francs,  and  the  entire  amount  lost  in  the 
twenty  bets  .to  5,241,915,  or  about  a^million  dollars. 
It  is  only  the  old  schoolboy  illustration  of  the  nails 
in  the  horseshoe,  on  a  little  larger  scale.  If  the  play- 
er were  able  to  commence  with  a  very  small  stake, 
were  there  no  limit  to  the  amount  which  he  should 
be  allowed  to  bet,  it  is  evident  that  with  an  unlimited 
capital  he  could,  by  this  "  system,"  inevitably  and 
surely  win.  But  the  bank  is  too  wise  to  permit  this, 
and  the  stakes  at  all  banking  games  are  limited  at 
either  extremity  with  a  "minimum,"  below  which, 
and  a  "maximum,"  above  which  no  stake  will  be 
accepted.  At  Hombourg  the  minimum  at  roulette  is 
fixed  at  one,  and  at  rouge-et-noir,  two  florins;  and  the 
maximum  upon  the  "simple  chances"  at  roulette  is 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     57 

four  thousand,  and  at  rouge-et-noir  five  thousand  six 
hundred  florins;  so  that  a  player  commencing  with 
the  minimum  at  the  former,  would  only  need  to  lose 
twelve  consecutive  bets  to  attain  the  maximum,  where 
he  would  be  obliged,  if  he  followed  out  his  system,  to 
return  to  his  original  stake,  after  having  lost  four 
thousand  and  eighty-three  florins  in  the  attempt  to 
win  one,  which  is  all  he  would  have  done,  had  he  at 
any  time  in  the  series  of  twelve  gained  a  single  stake. 
A  little  practical  experience  in  this  matter  of  winning 
at  a  banking  game  by  "  doubling  "  will  soon  con- 
vince any  one,  to  his  cost,  of  the  impracticability  of 
the  "system."  But,  besides  the  obstacles  mentioned, 
there  is  another,  which  no  amount  of  care,  circum- 
spection, or  boldness  can  overcome — the  "  percent- 
age" of  the  bank — the  fact  that  when  "zero"  appears 
at  roulette,  or  the  refait  at  rouge-et-noir,  all  parties  on 
all  sides  and  colors  lose.  This  is  sufficient  alone  to 
ruin  all  calculations,  and  destroy  all  probabilities  of 
ever  permanently  winning  by  a  "system." 

Another  exceedingly  plausible  "  system  "  of  win- 
ning at  a  banking  game  is  one  based  upon  the  theory 
of  the  "equilibrium  of  chances,"  embraced  in  the 
aphorism  that,  "  within  a  given  period,  two  simple 
chances  will  appear  an  equal  number  of  times."  The 
practical  application  of  this  system,  the  infallibility 

of  which   an  author,  who  has  recentlv  published  a 

3* 


58  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

book  of  advice  to  players,  showing  them  how  they 
can  surely  win,  says  is  "as  certain  as  the  return  of 
clay  after  night,"  is  playing  upon  "  color,"  or  any 
other  simple  chance,  when  it  has  either  not  appeared 
at  all  in  a  certain  number  of  times,  or  when  it  is  far 
in  arrears  of  its  opposite.  If,  for  example,  in  a  hun- 
dred turns  of  the  roulette,  "  black  "  had  appeared  but 
twenty  times,  and  "  red  "  eighty,  the  player  upon  this 
"  system  "  would,  with  the  idea  of  "  restoring  the  equi- 
librium," commence  betting  and  doubling  upon  the 
black.  But  in  this  "  system"  there  is  no  more  certain- 
ty than  in  any  of  the  others.  It  is  probable,  although 
by  no  means  certain,  or  capable  of  demonstration, 
either  theoretically  or  practically,  that  the -axiom  as- 
sumed is  correct,  that  were  a  man  to  live  to  the  age 
of  Methuselah,  and  should  he  in  his  earliest  youth 
commence  tossing  a  penny  in  the  air,  and  continue 
this  amusement  during  sixteen  hours  a  day  up  to 
the  time  of  his  death — it  is  probable,  although  by  no 
means  positive,  that  during  this  long  period  of  time 
nearly  an  equal  number  of  "  heads  "  and  "  tails"  must 
have  made  their  appearance.  But  the  attempt  prac- 
tically to  apply  this  theory  of  "  equilibrium  "  to  any 
limited  space  of  time — to  hours,  days,  or  even  years — 
is,  as  any  one  can  easily  satisfy  himself  by  trying  it, 
a  simple  absurdity. 

Still  more  palpable  and  inviting  to  a  young  player 


TREXTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     59 

is  the  idea  that  after  a  "  simple  chance  "  has  lost  a 
considerable  number  of  times  consecutively,  it  must 
soon  win.  If,  for  example,  at  roulette,  the  "  red  "  has 
appeared  at  eight  successive  turns  of  the  wheel,  it 
seems  evident  to  the  superficial  calculator  £hat  the 
piobabilities  are  strongly  in  favor  of  "black"  on  the 
next  turn,  and  the  temptation  to  bet  upon  it  is  to  the 
neophyte  almost  irresistible.  But  this  is  a  fatal  error. 
Chance  is  subject  to  a  certain  degree  of  calculation, 
guided  to  a  certain  extent  by  mathematical  law.  Be- 
fore the  penny  has  been  tossed,  the  chances  are  ex- 
actly equal  that  it  will  fall  with  "head"  or  "tail" 
uppermost,  but  the  probability  is  as  three  to  one,  that 
"heads  "  will  not  appear  twice  in  succession — as  seven 
to  one  against  three  consecutive  appearances,  as  fif- 
teen to  one  against  four,  and  so  on  in  arithmetical 
progression.  But  when  these  probabilities  have  been 
surmounted,  when  the  penny  actually  has  fallen  with 
the  "  head  "  up  at  four  successive  tosses,  the  chances 
again  become  exactly  equal  that  it  will  fall  "head" 
or  "  tail  "  upon  the  fifth,  there  being,  after  the  former 
has  been  made,  no  connection  between  the  fourth  and 
fifth  toss.  The  same  rule  applies  to  roulette  or  rouge- 
et-noir.  Before  the  turn  of  the  wheel,  the  chances  are 
as  255  to  1  that  red  or  black  will  not  win  eight  times 
in  succession  ;  but,  having  done  so,  upon  the  ninth 
tarn  the  probabilities  are  relatively  just  what  they 


tiU  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

were  on  the  first,  and  the  chances  of  red  or  black  win- 
ning or  losing  exactly  equal. 

One  of  the  most  favorite  of  the  "  systems"  played 
at  Hombourg  and  Baden-Baden,  both  against  roulette 
and  rouge-et-noir,  and  one  the  plausibility  of  which  is 
particularly  striking,  is  that  known  as  the  "  decom- 
posed eight."  The  theory  of  this  system  is,  that  no 
eight  coups  will  come  in  precisely  the  same  order  twice 
in  succession.  Thus,  for  example  :  if  at  roulette,  dur- 
ing eight  consecutive  turns  of  the  wheel,  "  red  "  has 
appeared  twice,  then  "black"  twice,  then  "red"  once, 
and  "black"  three  times,  the  player  of  the  "decom- 
posed eight "  is  prepared  to  back  his  opinion  that  the 
next  eight  turns  will  not  yield  precisely  the  same  re- 
sult in  exactly  the  same  order.  To  profit  by  this, 
he  bets  the  minimum  of  one  florin  upon  the  "  black." 
If  it  wins,  his  object  is  accomplished;  his  "system" 
is  verified ;  he  has  won  his  florin,  and  prepares  to 
attack  the  following  eight  coups  in  the  same  man- 
ner. But  should  it  lose,  he  then,  nothing  daunted, 
places  two  florins  upon  the  "  black ;"  if  that  lose,  four 
upon  the  "  red ;"  that  losing,  eight  upon  the  "  red ;" 
then  sixteen  upon  the  "black;"  and  thus  doubling 
each  time  he  loses,  and  always  in  opposition  to  the 
corresponding  turn  in  the  previous  series  of  eight. 
It  will  be  readily  seen  that,  in  accordance  with  this 
system,  unless  the  two  series  of  eight  do  successively 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     61 

appear  in  precisely  the  same  order,  the  player  must, 
at  some  time  before  he  reaches  the  last  number  of  the 
second  series,  win  one  florin.  A  diagram  will  ren- 
der this  perfectly  plain.  Suppose  the  first  series  of 
eight  to  have  appeared,  and  be  marked  as  follows: 

BLACK.  I  RED. 


In  such  case  the  player  would  exactly  reverse  this 
order,  and  make  his  bets  as  follows  : 


BLACK.      RED. 


62  AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

This  system,  upon  which  a  book  has  been  written, 
showing  how,  with  a  capital  of  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
six  florins,  a  certain  and  sure  profit  of  sixty  florins  a 
day  may  be  made  at  roulette,  is,  however,  as  fallacious 
as  any  of  the  others.  Its  plausibility  is  very  much 
heightened  by  the  assumed  irregularity  of  the  coups 
in  the  series  of  eight  against  which  it  is  proposed  to 
be  played.  In  principle,  it  would  be  precisely  the 
same  to  assume  that  after  "black  "had  appeared  eight 
times  in  succession,  it  could  not  immediately  appear 
eight  times  more.  The  second  series  of  eight  is  quite 
as  likely  to  follow  the  first,  in  what  may  be  called  ir- 
regular, as  in  regular  order  :  it  is  just  as  probable  that 
in  sixteen  turns  of  the  wheel  the  last  series-of  eiarht 
should  be  the  same  as  the  first,  as  that  "red"  or 
"black,"  or  any  other  "simple  chance,"  should  ap- 
pear sixteen  times  in  succession,  which  it  does  by  no 
means  unfrequently. 

There  are  many  other  more  or  less  complicated 
"  systems,"  professors  of  which  are  found  ready  to 
teach  them  to  verdant  pupils  at  all  the  gaming-hells 
of  Europe.  It  may  be  safely  said,  however,  that  all 
are  based  upon  fallacies,  and  that,  at  least  while  the 
bank  retains  its  "  percentage,"  and  limits  the  players 
to  a  "  maximum  "  and  "  minimum,"  no  banking  game 
can  be  beaten  by  a  "system." 

The  rouge-et-noir,  or  trente  et  quarante,  as  the  game 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     63 

is  indiscriminately  entitled,  is  not  so  well  known  in 
the  United  States  as  the  roulette.  It  is,  however,  the 
principal  attraction  at  Baden-Baden  and  Hombourg, 
and  is  played  with  six  packs  of  cards,  shuffled  and 
mixed  together,  the  players  sitting  or  standing  around 
a  table  covered  with  green  cloth.  In  the  centre  is 
placed  the  dealer,  and  opposite  him  and  at  either  end 
the  croupiers,  whose  duty  it  is  to  assist  the  players  in 
placing  their  stakes,  to  see  that  no  errors  are  made, 
and  to  push  or  pull  in  the  lost  money  with  long 
wooden  rakes.  Upon  one  side  of  the  table  a  diamond- 
shaped  piece  of  red  cloth  is  inserted ;  upon  the  oppo- 
site side  a  black  one.  The  players  desiring  to  "  back  " 
the  red,  place  their  money  upon  the  former;  those 
having  faith  in  the  black,  on  the  latter.  The  dealer 
encourages  the  players  with  the  formula  which,  like  a 
parrot,  he  repeats  from  hour  to  hour,  scarcely  ever 
varying  its  monotony  with  another  word — "  Faites 
votre  jeu,  messieurs — -faites  votre  jeu ;"  and  as  he  sees 
all  the  money  placed  he  declares  "Lejeu  est  fait ;"  and 
then,  commencing  to  turn  off  the  cards,  closes  with 
"  Rien  ne  va  plus"  after  which  all  bets  made  are  null 
and  void.  In  dealing  the  cards,  he  places  them  upon 
the  table,  counting  aloud  the  spots  as  he  does  so,  the 
court  cards  being  valued  at  ten  each,  and  all  the  oth- 
ers at  the  number  of  spots  which  they  bear.  The 
dealer  must  continue  turning  and  counting  until  he 


64 


AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 


reaches  at  least  thirty-one,  and  can  not  go  beyond 
forty.  The  first  series,  between  thirty-one  and  forty, 
counts  for  the  "  black,"  and  this  being  completed,  he 
turns  off  another  for  the  "  red."  The  one  which  ap- 
proaches the  nearest  to  thirty-one  is  the  winning  series. 
To  make  this  plainer,  suppose,  for  example,  the  first  se- 
ries of  cards  to  be  turned  off  in  the  following  order  : 


These,  as  will  be  seen,  count  in  the  aggregate  thir- 
ty-three, and  this,  exceeding  thirty-one,  completes  the 
series  for  the  "black,"  and  the  dealer  then  commen- 
ces with  the  second  series  for  the  "  red."  Suppose 
this  to  appear  in  the  following  order : 


♦     + 

♦JO 

9      V 

$      ♦ 

♦  ♦  ♦ 

V 

*      * 

+ 

♦ 

j  Jf/Afp^ 

A 

» v  ♦ 

HSri 

&      A 

♦      ♦ 

This,  the  "  red  "  series,  counting  in  the  aggregate 
thirty-four,  and  this  being  farther  removed  from  "thir- 
ty-one" than  the  first  series,  the  "black"  wins;  the 
dealer  declares  that  "rouge  perd"  and  all  the  bets 
made  upon  the  first  or  "  black  "  series  are  paid,  while 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     65 

those  upon  the  last  or  "  red  "  series  are  raked  in  to 
swell  the  capital  of  the  bank.  Another  mode  of  bet- 
ting at  rouge-et-noir  is  upon  "color,"  or  against  it. 
These  bets  are  decided  by  the  color  of  the  last  card 
turned  in  the  winning  series.  If  the  "  black,"  or  first 
series,  wins,  and  the  last  card  turned  in  that  series  is 
a  black  one,  as  in  the  diagram  given  above,  then 
"color"  wins;  but  if  it  be  a  red  card,  then  "color" 
loses ;  the  winning  of  "  color "  depending  upon  the 
last  card  in  the  winning  series  being  of  the  same  color 
as  the  winning  series  itself.  The  "  advantage  "  to  the 
bank  at  rouge-et-noir  is  known  as  the  re/ait.  Should, 
for  example,  each  of  the  series  count  thirty-two,  or 
any  equal  number  between  that  and  forty,  the  bets 
upon  either  side  are  a  "  stand-off,"  that  is,  they  neither 
win  nor  lose,  and  the  players  may  resume  or  change 
them  at  pleasure.  If,  however,  each  of  the  series 
should  count  thirty-one,  then  all  the  bets  upon  both 
sides  are  placed  "in  prison,"  depending  upon  the  next 
turn  for  being  taken  out  or  lost — this  being  in  reality 
equivalent  to  taking  one-half  of  each  stake  upon  the 
table.  At  Hombourg,  however,  the  bank  relinquishes 
a  portion  of  its  advantages,  and  contents  itself  with  a 
demi re/ait,  the  stakes  being  only  placed  "in  prison" 
when  the  last  card  of  the  last  series  is  a  black  one. 
The  refait  of  thirty-one  is  calculated  to  occur  about 
once    in  thirty-eight  times,  which  gives  the   bank  a 


66  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

percentage  of  about  two  and  two-thirds,  which  is  re- 
duced at  Hombourg  by  the  demi  refait  to  just  half 
this  amount. 

The  fact  that  there  is  a  smaller  "percentage" 
against  the  player  at  rouge-et-noir  than  at  roulette,  to- 
gether  with  that  that  the  bank  is  larger,  renders  it  the 
more  popular  of  the  two  games.  As  the  minimum 
permitted  to  be  staked  is  two  florins,  and  the  maxi- 
mum five  thousand  six  hundred,  the  play  is  usually 
much  higher  than  at  roulette  ;  and  as  the  game  is  con- 
sidered more  "respectable,"  it  attracts  usually  a  bet- 
ter class  of  players,  whose  piles  of  gold  and  heaps 
of  paper  money  are  scattered  about  the  table.  The 
"bank"  amounts  to  150,000  francs,  and  that  at  rou- 
lette to  80,000.  These  are  not  unfrequently  "broken" 
by  high  players  when  others  of  the  same  amount  are 
put  up ;  for  in  spite  of  all  the  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
winning,  notwithstanding  the  decided  "advantages" 
in  favor  of  the  bank,  capital,  boldness,  and  good  for- 
tune not  unfrequently  overcome  them,  and  result  in 
large  profits.  During  the  time  I  was  at  Hombourg 
a  Russian  arrived  there  with  a  capital  of  two  thou- 
sand francs.  In  the  course  of  a  week  he  had  broken 
the  bank  several  times,  and  was  a  winner  to  the 
amount  of  800,000  francs.  He  was,  however,  ambi- 
tious to  swell  this  to  a  million,  and,  in  his  attempt  to 
accomplish  this,  lost  the  whole,  so  that  the  administra- 


TRENTE   ET   QUARANTE   AT   HOMBOURG.  67 

tion  was  obliged  to  give  him  a  hundred  francs  with 
which  to  get  away  from  Hombourg,  which  was  paid 
out  of  a  fund  kept  and  nursed  by  the  administra- 
tion for  the  benefit  of  those  unfortunate  individuals 
who  "come  after  wool,"  and  are  so  thoroughly  "shorn." 
Such  cases  as  that  of  the  Kussian  are  by  no  means 
uncommon,  and  form  the  capital  of  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  daily  gossip  of  the  place.  There  are  others, 
and  more  melancholy  ones,  of  men  and  women  who 
have  been  wealthy,  but  whose  passion  for  play  has 
been  their  ruin,  and  who,  having  lost  their  all,  still 
hang  about  the  tables,  their  eyes  and  ears  pleased 
with  the  sparkle  and  jingle  of  gold  and  silver,  and 
their  hopes  buoyed  up  with  the  impression  that  they 
may  be  able  to  beg  or  borrow  from  some  fortunate 
player  a  small  stake,  with  which  they  may  finally  re- 
trieve their  losses.  Occasionally  some  poor  fellow 
who  has  lost  all  but  his  brains,  concluding  that  these 
will  not  be  of  much  further  practical  use  to  him,  dis- 
turbs for  a  few  minutes  the  quiet  progress  of  the 
game  by  blowing  them  out  with  a  pistol.  But  such 
little  incidents  as  these  only  increase  the  stock  of  in- 
teresting gossip,  and  the  ball  goes  on  spinning  as 
briskly  as  ever. 

The  oldest  and  most  celebrated  hahitue  of  the 
gaming-tables  of  Hombourg  is  the  Countess  Kisselef, 
wife  of  the  former  Russian  minister  to  Rome.     She  is 


68  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

an  old  lad j  of  seventy,  and  a  long  time  since  her  pas- 
sion for  play  became  so  great  that  her  husband  in- 
formed her  that  she  must  either  give  up  it  or  him. 
She  chose  the  latter  alternative,  and  went  to  Hom- 
bourg,  where  she  has  lived  for  the  last  ten  or  twelve 
years,  spending  almost  her  entire  day  at  the  roulette 
table.  She  is  a  cripple,  and  unable  to  walk,  and  every 
morning  at  eleven,  when  the  game  commences,  she  is 
wheeled  up  to  the  Kursaal  in  a  bath-chair,  and  hob- 
bling in  upon  crutches,  or  leaning  on  the  arms  of  her 
servants,  takes  her  place  at  the  table,  where  she  sits 
till  six,  when  she  goes  to  dinner,  returning  at  eight, 
and  playing  till  eleven  o'clock.  And  this  routine  of 
life  continues  week-days  and  Sundays,  summer  and 
winter,  year  in  and  year  out ;  and  the  old  lady,  who 
is  evidently  fast  fading  out,  will,  in  all  probability, 
drop  off  some  day  between  two  spins  of  the  roulette 
wheel,  and  as  the  croupier  appropriately  announces, 
uLe  jeu  est  fait — rien  ne  va  plus/"  She  is  said  to 
have  lost  some  ten  millions  of  florins,  or  about  four 
millions  of  dollars,  and  the  administration  counts  upon 
her  as  being  worth  at  least  five  hundred  thousand 
florins  a  year  to  the  bank.  Some  years  since  she  built 
a  block  of  houses  and  opened  a  new  street  in  Hom- 
bourg,  to  which  her  name  was  given ;  but  houses  and 
lots  were  long  since  swallowed  up,  and  have  gone  to 
feed  the  insatiable  maw  of  the  demon  of  gaming. 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     69 

Two  valuable  practical  lessons  may  be  learned  by 
a  little  observation,  study,  and  reflection  at  such  a 
place  as  Hombourg.  The  first  is  that  persons  who 
play  against  the  games  slowly  and  systematically,  con- 
tenting themselves  with  losing  or  winning  only  a  cer- 
tain amount  daily,  are  sure  in  the  end  to  be  losers  by 
the  "percentage"  or  "advantage"  which  the  game 
possesses.  The  other  is  that,  except  in  rare  instances, 
those  who  make  sudden  and  large  winnings  usually 
play  until  they  have  lost  them  all  again.  The  fasci- 
nation of  play  is  so  overwhelming,  the  excitement  so 
pleasing  and  so  powerful,  that  the  winner,  elated  with 
his  good  fortune,  sees  no  reason  why  it  should  not  last 
forever ;  and  having  fixed  no  limit  at  which  he  will 
cease  playing,  continues  until  he  has  lost  all.  Keep- 
ers of  gaming-houses  count  even  more  upon  the  pas- 
sions of  players  than  upon  the  legitimate  advantages 
of  their  games — upon  the  fact  that  a  winner  is  desir- 
ous of  winning  more,  and  a  loser  of  retrieving  his 
losses,  and  that  both  have  but  one  fixed  and  positive 
stopping-place — the  bottom  of  their  purses. 

Besides  the  amateur  and  professional  gamesters  at 
Hombourg,  are  others  who  gain  a  livelihood  by  keep- 
ing the  run  of  the  games  upon  little  cards  furnished 
for  the  purpose,  and  selling  them  to  those  who  desire 
the  information  ;  then  there  are  broken-down  players, 
who  hang  about  the  tables,  awaiting  an  opportunity 


70  AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

to  pick  up  a  "  straggler"  or  "  sleeper" — a  stake  which 
its  legitimate  owner  neglects  or  forgets.  Sharpers, 
who  take  other  people's  money  when  occasion  offers, 
and  who  even  play  tricks  upon  the  bank  itself,  are 
permitted  to  remain  in  the  rooms  until  they  are  fairly 
detected,  when  they  are  banished  the  premises.  The 
croupiers,  of  whom  there  are  six  at  each  roulette,  and 
four  at  each  rouge-et-noir  table,  keep  a  sharp  watch, 
and  are  familiar  with  most  of  the  "dodges"  resorted 
to  to  swindle  the  bank ;  yet  occasionally  some  enter- 
prising sharper  succeeds  in  beating  it  upon  a  very  cer- 
tain basis.  One  day  during  my  summer  residence  at 
Hombourg,  a  very  respectable-looking  man  placed 
upon  the  "  red  "  at  rouge-et-noir  a  rouleau,  which,  being 
put  up  in  blue  paper,  resembled  in  size,  form,  and 
general  appearance  the  rouleaux  of  fifty  silver  florins 
each  which  the  bank  frequently  pays  out.  The  "  red" 
lost;  and  the  croupier  -was  about  raking  in  the  rou- 
leau, when  the  better  remarked  that  he  would  prefer 
to  keep  it,  and  handed  at  the  same  time  five  bills  of 
ten  florins  each  to  the  croupier,  who,  accepting  them 
as  an  equivalent,  pushed  back  with  his  rake  the  rou- 
leau. The  better  allowed  it  still  to  remain  upon  the 
"  red,"  which  at  the  next  turn  of  the  cards  won,  when 
the  croupier,  in  payment,  handed  him  the  five  ten-florin 
bills  which  the  better  had  just  paid  him.  The  better, 
however,  objected   to  this;    and  breaking  open  the 


TRENTE  ET  QUARANTE  AT  HOMBOURG.     71 

rouleau,  exposed,  instead  of  fifty  silver  florins,  fifty 
quintuple  gold  Napoleons  of  a  hundred  francs  each, 
for  which  he  demanded  an  equal  sum  in  payment. 
The  croupier  objected,  stating  that,  in  exchange  for 
the  rouleau  when  it  was  lost,  the  better  had  given  him 
but  fifty  florins,  thus  leading  him  to  believe  that  to  be 
the  amount  which  it  contained.  To  this  proposition 
the  better  replied  that  that  was  not  his  affair;  that, 
in  placing  the  rouleau  upon  the  table,  he  had  made 
no  declaration  as  to  how  much  or  how  little  he  had 
staked ;  that  the  croupier,  when  it  lost,  had  a  perfect 
right,  and  that,  indeed,  it  was  his  duty  to  have  taken 
it ;  that  if  he  had  blindly  consented  to  accept  fifty 
florins  in  its  stead,  that  was  simply  an  evidence  of  his 
neglect  of  the  interests  of  the  bank;  but  that  now  it 
had  won,  it  must  be  paid.  The  matter  being  referred 
to  the  administration,  it  was  decided  that  the  better 
was  right  in  theory,  and  the  value  of  the  rouleau  being 
paid  him,  he  was  politely  requested  never  to  grace 
again  the  splendid  salons  of  the  Kursaal  with  his 
presence,  while  the  croupiers  were  instructed  to  take 
all  rouleaux  which  were  lost  instead  of  their  presumed 
equivalents. 

A  few  days  afterward  an  exceedingly  clever  swin- 
dle was  practiced  at  the  roulette  table.  A  highly  re- 
3pectable  looking  old  gentleman,  with  a  decided  mil- 
itary air,  and  wearing  a  decoration  in  his  button-hole, 


72  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

took  a  seat  at  the  table  and  placed  a  gold  Napoleon 
upon  a  single  number.  It  lost,  and  he  placed  a  second 
upon  another  number.  This  lost  also,  and  he  contin- 
ued betting  and  losing  half  a  dozen  Napoleons,  when 
a  young  man  came  rushing  up  to  the  table  in  great 
haste  and  placed  a  silver  florin  upon  "  thirty-sis " 
a  second  after  the  croupier  had  announced  that  as  the 
winning  number.  As  it  was  evident  that  the  money 
had  been  placed  after  the  number  was  declared,  the 
croupier,  informing  him  that  he  was  "  too  late,"  push- 
ed the  florin  piece  with  his  rake  toward  the  young 
man.  As  he  did  this,  he  uncovered  a  gold  Napoleon 
lying  upon  the  same  number  beneath  the  silver  florin. 
This  the  croupier  also  pushed  off,  when  the-  old  gen- 
tleman with  the  decoration,  in  a  storm  of  indignation 
and  wrath,  seized  it,  and  placing  it  back  upon  the 
winning  number,  insisted  upon  its  being  paid.  "  He 
was  not  responsible,"  he  said,  "for  the  young  man's 
having  covered  it  with  his  florin  ;"  and  as  he  seemed 
to  be  an  exceedingly  respectable  old  gentleman,  and 
as  he  had  been  betting  Napoleons,  the  croupiers  took  it 
for  granted  that  all  was  as  it  appeared  to  be,  and  paid 
him  thirty-five  Napoleons.  The  old  gentleman  then, 
apparently  highly  indignant  at  the  slight  hesitation 
which  had  been  exhibited  about  paying  him,  and  as- 
serting that  he  would  play  no  more  with  such  "  vo- 
leurs"  took  up  his  money  and  departed,  and  within 


TRENTE   ET   QUAE  ANTE   AT   HOMBOURG.  73 

the  next  fifteen  minutes  he  and  his  young  friend  were 
probably  on  their  way  to  Frankfort.  A  day  or  two 
after  the  occurrence  it  was  ascertained  that  the  same 
scene  had  been  enacted  by  the  same  parties  at  Baden. 
The  young  man  was,  of  course,  the  old  one's  accom- 
plice, and  had  placed  the  Napoleon  upon  the  winning 
number  at  the  same  time  with  the  florin. 

It  is  impossible  to  ascertain  even  approximately 
the  amount  of  money  annually  lost  at  Hombourg, 
where,  unlike  most  of  the  gaming  establishments  of 
Europe,  the  tables  stand  invitingly  covered  with  sil- 
ver and  gold,  and  the  ball  spins,  and  the  cards  are 
turned,  and  the  everlasting  monotonous  formula, 
"Rienneva  plus!"  is  heard  all  the  year  round.  Some 
idea  of  it  may,  however,  be  gathered  from  the  expenses 
to  which  the  administration  is  subjected,  and  the  prof- 
its which  it  derives.  The  gaming  privilege  is  owned 
by  a  chartered  association  whose  nominal  capital  is 
3,200,000  florins,  divided  into  shares  of  250  florins 
each.  The  company  pays  annually  to  the  Govern- 
ment a  tax  of  60,000  florins,  lights  and  keeps  clean 
the  streets  of  Hombourg,  supports  the  hospital  there, 
expends  three  thousand  francs,  or  about  six  hundred 
dollars  a  day,  in  keeping  in  good  order  and  repair, 
and  in  constantly  adding  new  embellishments  to  the 
grounds  and  buildings,  pays  its  shareholders  a  divi- 
dend of  twenty  per  cent,  per  annum,  and  then  puts 

4 


74  AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 

aside  a  large  amount  as  a  sinking  fund  for  the  re- 
demption of  the  stock,  which,  if  the  gaming  privilege 
is  continued  a  few  years  longer,  will  have  cost  the 
shareholders  nothing. 

It  is  generally  supposed  that,  looking  upon  gaming 
as  contra  honos  mores,  the  Prussian  Government,  which 
has  recently  come  into  possession  of  the  territory  of 
Hesse  Hombourg,  will  not  sanction  its  continuation ; 
and  the  administration,  hotel,  shop,  lodging  and  bath 
house  keepers  are  in  a  terrible  state  of  anxiety,  all 
imagining  that  they  and  their  various  interests  and 
occupations  will  be  ruined  if  the  fascination  of  pla}' 
ceases  to  be  the  attractive  inducement  to  the  summer 
visitors  at  Hombourg.  In  such  an  event,  -the  large 
majority — the  fast  men  and  rapid  women,  the  gam- 
blers and  the  sharpers — would  of  course  disappear. 

But  the  Taunus  would  still  be  as  blue,  and  the 
breezes  blowing  from  its  summits  as  fresh  and  exhila- 
rating as  ever ;  its  waters  as  beneficial,  its  gardens  and 
woods  as  romantic  and  lovely ;  and  the  really  "  re- 
spectable "  visitor  need  no  longer  feel  that  he  was  en- 
couraging by  his  presence,  if  not  aiding  by  his  pe- 
cuniary contributions,  the  continuance  of  an  evil 
which,  in  all  ages  and  countries,  has  been  deemed  one 
of  the  most  detrimental  to  moral  health. 


CHAPTER  III. 

A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND. 

From  Zurich  to  Altorf. — The  Falls  of  the  Rhine. — Zurich  and  its 
Surroundings. — Vagabonds. — My  Companion. — Horgen. — Outfit 
and  Travelling-dress. — Knapsacks  and  Gibicieres. — The  Hill  above 
Horgen. — An  unwarrantable  Intrusion. — The  "  Falken"  at  Zug. — 
Gretchen  and  her  Sympathy. — Arth. — Guides  and  Commission- 
naires. — The  Ascent  of  the  Rigi. — Dismal  Weather. — TheKlosterli. 
—The  Rigi  Staffel.— "  View"  from  our  Windows.— The  Summit 
of  the  Rigi,  and  the  View  from  there. — Down  toWeggis. — Lucerne. 
— The  Lake  of  Lucerne. — Fluellen. — Altorf. — From  Altorf  to  Mei- 
ringen. — Our  pedestrian  Excursion  fairly  commenced. — Unpropi- 
tious  Circumstances. — Beggars  in  Switzerland. — The  Devil's  Bridge. 
— Realp. — The  Road  to  the  Furca. — View  from  the  mountain  Sum- 
mit.— Necessary  Precautions. — The  Glacier  du  Rhone. — A  pedes- 
trian Wedding-tour. — The  Grimsel. — The  Valley  of  the  Aare. — 
The  Falls  of  Ilandeck. — From  Meiringen  to  Interlaken. — A  Differ- 
ence of  Opinion,  and  its  Results. — Warer  and  I  separate. — A  mag- 
nificent View. — The  Glacier  of  Rosenlaui. — The  Alpenhom. — 
Warerand  I  meet  again. — Grindchvald. — Ascent  of  the  Glacier. — 
An  unpleasant  Predicament. — The  Avalanches. — The  Jungfrau. — 
How  to  "share"  a  Mule. — Lauterbrunnen. — Termination  of  our 
Trip. — My  Companion  Warer. 

["T  was  "by  the  margin  of  fair  Zurich's  waters,  at  the 
-*-  close  of  a  fine  summer's  day,"  that  my  friend  Wa- 
rer and  myself  took  passage  upon  the  little  boat  which 
steams  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  lovely  lake  of 
Zurich.  We  had  come  into  Switzerland  from  Munich 
by  way  <>f  Lindau,  had  crossed  the  lake  to  Constance, 


76  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

had  visited  the  Ehine-fall  at  Schaff hausen,  where  we 
had  admired  the  charming  cascade  as  it  leaps  and 
tumbles  in  graceful,  foaming  beauty  over  and  among 
the  limestone  rocks  which  here  dam  up  the  Ehine, 
We  had  grumbled,  and  my  friend  had  used  language 
even  more  emphatic,  at  the  persistent  and  successful 
attempts  of  the  dwellers  on  the  height  above  the  fall 
to  shut  it  out  from  view  and  make  a  peep-show  of  it ; 
and  we  had  laughed  heartily  at  the  turgid  enthusiasm 
of  Klopstock,  and  still  more  heartily  at  the  note  in 
our  Baedeker  informing  us  that  "this  magnificent 
cataract,  though  far  inferior  in  volume  and  height,  is- 
considered  by  some  to  surpass  the  celebrated  falls 
of  Niagara  in  North  America."  To  one-  who  has 
seen  Niagara  (which  by  the  way  never  fell  to  the 
lot  of  Klopstock  or  Baedeker),  any  comparison  of 
the  Ehine-fall  with  it  is  simply  ludicrous.  We  had 
spent  two  days  in  Zurich,  had  explored  its  queer 
old  streets,  had  ascended  the  heights  above  it,  from 
which  is  obtained  a  fine  panoramic  view  of  the  town, 
with  the  green  and  rapid  Limmat  running  through 
it.  We  had  strolled  for  hours  upon  the  borders  of 
that  calmest  and  loveliest  of  Swiss  lakes ;  and  my 
companion,  with  his  artistic  glance,  and  myself,  with 
an  eye  ever  freely  open  to  the  beautiful  in  na- 
ture, had  gazed  in  silent  admiration,  not  unmingled 
with    awe,   upon    the    lofty    snow -crowned   Alpine 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     77 

peaks,  which  tower  like  giant  sentinels  guarding  its 
slumbers. 

We  had  provided  ourselves  here  with  the  necessa- 
ry articles  for  our  journey,  had  paid  our  bill  to  mine 
host  of  the  Sonne,  and  considered  ourselves  fully  pre- 
pared for  a  month's  foot-tramp  among  the  Swiss 
mountains,  as  we  stepped,  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
last  day  of  August,  at  four  o'clock,  on  board  the  boat 
which  was  to  bear  us  to  a  place  with  the  musical  name 
of  Horgen,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Zurich,  on  the  lake, 
and  at  which  point  we  purposed  commencing  our  pe- 
destrian tour. 

I  have  now,  always  had,  and  hope  I  always  shall 
have,  a  liking  for  "  vagabonds :"  for  that  large  class 
of  unpractical  fellows,  made  up  in  great  part  of 
artists,  students,  and  literary  men,  whose  lack  of 
worldly  wisdom  is  more  than  compensated  for  by 
their  warm,  impulsive,  generous  natures ;  whose 
hearts  still  remain  young,  and  fresh,  and  warm  when 
the  crow's-feet  of  time  are  making  lasting  marks 
upon  their  faces;  whose  faith  in  man  and  wom- 
an has  not  yet  been  destroyed  by  their  hard  ex- 
perience in  life,  but  who  still  believe  that  there  is 
goodness,  and  purity,  and  love,  and  a  friendship  un- 
uncontrolled  by  selfish  interest;  whose  creed  in  this 
matter  is  so  fully  expressed  in  the  lines  of  Frances 
Kernblc : 


« 

78         AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 

' '  Better  trust  and  be  deceived, 
And  weep  this  trust,  and  that  deceiving, 
Than  doubt  one  heart  which  if  believed, 
Had  blessed  one's  life  with  true  believing : 
Oh  this  mocking  world  !  too  fast 
The  doubting  fiend  o'ertakes  our  youth : 
Better  be  cheated  to  the  last 
Than  lose  the  blessed  hope  of  truth. " 

I  like  men  "  unstable  as  water " — even  though 
they  do  not  excel  in  what'  most  of  the  world  deems 
"  excellence." 

My  friend  and  companion  was  one  of  these  un- 
stable, steadfast  men.  The  child  of  "  poor  but  hon- 
est parents,"  he  had  followed  the  tide  of  emigration 
to  California,  where  he  had  spent  several  years  "  dig- 
ging "  in  the  mines,  or  farming,  or  writing  funny  things 
for  newspapers.  Among  the  grand  mountains  and 
green  and  flowery  valleys  of  California,  his  artistic 
nature  had  been  developed,  and  his  fine  taste  in  color 
in  part  revealed  to  him.  He  determined  to  abandon 
trade  and  pursue  art ;  and  having  fortunately  secured 
in  San  Francisco  a  little  piece  of  land  which  produced 
him  an  annual  revenue  of  three  hundred  dollars,  and 
throwing  himself  upon  this  never-failing,  though  cer- 
tainly modest  resource,  he  determined  to  come  to  Eu- 
rope, and  reverently  sit,  pencil  in  hand,  at  the  feet  of 
the  great  masters. 

I  first  met  him  in  Paris  in  the  spring  of  1861. 
There  are  natures  which  instinctively  mingle  with 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     79 

each  other,  and  it  was  perhaps  the  watery,  "  unsta- 
ble" element  in  mine  that  went  leaping  and  bounding 
to  join  its  like  in  his.  At  all  events,  Warer  was  from 
that  time  no  longer  companionless,  and  many  a  genial, 
pleasant  hour  we  spent  together  either  in  my  rooms 
in  the  Quartier  Latin,  strolling  through  its  quaint 
streets,  or  through  the  art  galleries,  and,  in  pleasant 
summer  afternoons,  among  the  villages  and  woods  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Paris.  I  found  him  living  in  a 
little  garret  in  the  Cite,  just  large  enough  to  hold  a 
very  narrow  bed ;  and  here  he  made  a  cup  of  tea  and 
ate  a  roll  of  bread  for  breakfast,  and  cooked  a  mutton- 
chop  over  a  spirit-lamp  for  dinner.  I  suspect,  also, 
that  during  the  first  two  months  he  was  in  Paris,  be- 
fore he  made  an  arrangement  for  the  regular  transmis- 
sion of  his  funds,  he  had  frequently  "  dined  with  Duke 
Humphrey."  Still,  in  all  his  troubles,  not  the  least  of 
which  was  an  occasional  hemorrhage,  he  was  steadily 
pursuing  the  object  of  his  visit  to  Paris,  going  at  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  to  the  School  of  Design,  and 
working  there  till  noon,  then  to  the  Louvre,  where  he 
copied  till  four,  and  in  the  evening  again  to  his  study 
and  practice. 

Thus  he  worked  on  for  nearly  a  year,  but,  on  the 
outbreak  of  the  war,  he  felt  it  his  duty  to  lend  his  na- 
tive land  his  aid.  He  returned  to  the  United  States, 
and,  not  feeling  himself  physically  able  to  perform  the 


SO  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

duties  of  a  soldier,  at  once  entered  the  hospital  depart- 
ment, and  acted  as  nurse  to  the  sick  and  wounded  sol- 
diers, until  he  himself,  worn  out  and  ill,  was  discharged, 
and  returned  to  Europe  to  recommence  the  study  of 
art.  Friends  mourned  over  him,  and  called  him  "  un- 
stable." Unstable  as  he  may  have  been  in  other 
things,  he  certainly  was  fixed  and  devoted  enough  to 
the  profession  he  had  chosen,  and  if  health  and  life  are 
spared  him  he  will  some  day  find  his  name  inscribed 
high  on  the  list  of  painters.  Such  was  my  companion 
— genial,  moody,  devoted,  capricious,  serious,  "  unsta- 
ble" and  fixed — in  short,  as  most  of  us  are,  a  bundle 
of  contradictions. 

We  had  determined,  on  starting,  to  travel  as 
economically  as  was  consistent  with  a  reasonable  de- 
gree of  comfort,  and  to  eschew  "grand"  hotels,  and 
put  up  at  the  less  pretentious  but  frequently  quite  as 
comfortable  auberges ;  and  as  we  had  both  had  some 
experience  in  the  swindling  ways  of  landlords,  it 
was  arranged  that,  upon  arriving  in  a  town  or  vil- 
lage, Warer  should  go  on  a  voyage  of  exploration, 
and  make  a  bargain  in  advance  for  lodging  and  prov- 
ender. 

At  Horgen  we  went  to  the  "  Lion,"  a  roughly- 
built  chalet,  with  those  large,  wide  porticoes  which  are 
the  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  Swiss  houses ; 
here  Warer  had  found  a  room  with  two  clean  beds 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     81 

for  a  franc  each,  and  we  made  a  very  decent  supper, 
with  a  bottle  of  wine,  for  twenty  -  eight  sous.  My 
dress  for  the  excursion  consisted  of  a  stout  suit  of 
coarse  woollen  clothing,  a  flannel  travelling-shirt,  a 
soft  "  wide-awake,"  and  a  pair  of  heavy  double-soled 
laced  boots  reaching  a  little  above  the  ankle,  and  in 
which  a  Zurich  cobbler  had  driven  a  double  row  of 
hobnails.  My  socks  were  heavy,  but  fine  wool :  cot- 
ton should  never  be  worn  in  walking  long  distances, 
as  it  cuts  the  feet ;  while  with  good  woollen  socks  well 
soaped  on  the  inside  every  morning  with  common 
brown  soap,  and  with  a  fair  degree  of  courage  and 
determination,  the  loftiest  mountains  can  be  scaled, 
and  the  ruggedest  roads  marched  over  with  compar- 
ative ease. 

My  friend  had  wisely  provided  himself  with  a  light 
canvas  knapsack,  which,  with  a  keen  eye  for  a  bar- 
gain, he  bought  at  a  shop  in  Zurich,  the  contents  of 
which  principally  consisted  of  old  knapsacks,  boots, 
hats,  alpenstockers,  and  other  articles  used  by  pedes- 
trians, and  which,  having  served  their  purpose,  had 
been  disposed  of  here  by  travellers  who  had  comple- 
ted their  journeys.  I  had  been  seduced  by  the  mis- 
representations of  one  of  "  fair  Zurich's  daughters  " 
on  the  margin  of  the  lake,  who  had  no  knapsacks  for 
sale,  but  did  have  gibicieres,  or  wallets,  into  the  pur- 
chase of  one  of  the  latter.     Many  pedestrians  travel 

I""' 


82  AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

with  these,  and  prefer  them  to  the  knapsack.  Mine 
was  made  of  light  cotton  cloth,  bound  with  a  prepa- 
ration of  caoutchouc,  and  was  worn  hanging  near  the 
hip,  suspended  by  a  broad  strap  passing  over  the 
shoulder.  There  are  some  advantages  in  the  wal- 
let ;  it  can  be  easily  dropped,  or  shifted  from  one 
shoulder  to  the  other,  or  it  may  be  carried  in  the 
hand.  I  should,  however,  recommend  the  knapsack, 
which  does  not  fatigue  the  wearer  as  much  as  the  wal- 
let does. 

In  mine  I  had  stowed  away  the  articles  which,  from 
some  experience  in  pedestrianizing,  I  considered  indis- 
pensable for  a  fortnight's  tramp ;  these  were  a  linen 
blouse,  a  pair  of  light  trowsers,  a  flannel  travelling- 
shirt,  two  pairs  of  socks,  a  pair  of  light  low-quartered 
shoes,  half  a  dozen  collars,  an  opera-glass,  a  small  port- 
folio containing  materials  for  writing,  a  piece  of  soap, 
a  comb,  brushes,  a  paper  of  pins,  a  little  box  contain- 
ing needles,  thread,  and  buttons,  a  small  ball  of  twine, 
and  my  guide-book  ;  all  these,  with  careful  packing, 
may  be  pressed  into  an  astonishingly  small  space.  In 
addition  to  the  gibiciere,  I  also  carried  an  umbrella, 
slung  with  a  strap  across  the  back  or  used  as  a  walk- 
ing-stick, a  small  flask  in  my  pocket,  and  a  plaid 
shawl,  fastened  either  upon  the  outside  of  the  wal- 
let, hung  loosely  over  the  shoulder,  or  rolled  into 
a  sort  of  rope  and  tied  around  the  waist.     The  shawl 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     S3 

and  blouse  I  found  invaluable.  In  midsummer,  an 
overcoat,  unless  it  be  a  thin  "  mackintosh,"  as  a  pro- 
tection against  rain,  is  an  entirely  unnecessary  bur- 
den. My  companion,  besides  his  knapsack,  carried 
in  his  hand  a  large  portfolio  of  canvas  and  drawing- 
paper,  and  a  box  of  colors,  fastened  together  by  a 
strap. 

It  was  a  dull,  damp,  drizzly,  unpropitious  morning, 
about  half  past  six  o'clock,  when  Warer  and  I,  having 
completed  our  toilets  and  our  breakfasts,  shouldered 
our  packs  and  started  out  of  the  village  up  the  hill 
above  Horgen.  We  had  laid  out  no  lengthened  route, 
but  were  decided  to  mount  first  the  Rigi,  and  go  from 
there  in  whatever  direction  inclination  mio-ht  lead  us. 

O 

Our  first  morning  walk  was  to  be  to  Zug,  situated 
on  the  lake  of  that  name  eleven  miles  from  Horgen. 
We  mounted  the  hillside,  stopping  to  pluck  a  few  del- 
icately blue-fringed  gentians,  which  grew  here  in  wild 
profusion,  and  when  we  had  reached  the  summit,  four 
and  a  half  miles  from  Horgen,  sat  down  to  rest.  The 
rain  had  ceased,  and  the  sun  appeared  in  all  his  splen- 
dor. Below  us,  far  down  the  hillside,  lay  the  sleep- 
ing lake  of  Zurich,  and  upon  the  other  slope  in  the 
distance,  the  charming  little  sheet  of  Zug.  The  Rigi 
and  Pilatus,  with  light  clouds  floating  below  their 
heads,  rose  up  into  the  blue  sky,  and  farther  off  the 
sunshine  fell  upon  the  eternally  snow-covered  mount- 


84  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

ains  of  the  Bernese  Oberland.  We  sat  an  hour  min- 
gling our  souls  with  this  grandeur  and  sublimity,  and 
felt  a  glow  of  enthusiasm  such  as  had  not  warmed  us 
in  many  a  day.  With  these  everlasting  hills,  peaceful 
lakes,  and  lovely  valleys  in  sight,  we  forgot  man  and 
his  littlenesses,  his  towns  and  cities,  and  his  many 
inventions,  and  we  gazed  and  drank  in  to  the  full- 
est of  our  capacity  the  splendor  spread  and  piled 
around  us,  talking  the  while  of  God,  and  art,  and 
beauty. 

Descending  the  hillside,  we  passed  a  large  cotton- 
mill,  standing  silent  for  want  of  raw  material,  and  far- 
ther on  entered  a  gasthaus,  where  Warer,  who  spoke 
a  little  German,  made  a  pretty  girl,  who  was.  either 
landlady  or  landlady's  daughter,  understand  that  we 
were  thirsty  and  wanted  beer.  She  served  it  to  us, 
and  it  was  tolerably  good.  The  lass  was  rosy  and 
buxom ;  but,  as  she  handed  us  the  foaming  glasses, 
her  pretty  red  lips  were  protruding  in  a  most  unmis- 
takable pout,  and  the  manner  in  which  she  put  the 
beer  down  evidently  signified  "  There — take  that,  and 
go."  The  fact  was,  we  had  intruded  upon  what  was 
undoubtedly,  to  her,  a  pleasant  tete-a-tete;  and  as  we 
were  in  the  best  possible  humor  with  the  world,  we 
drank  our  beer  and  took  our  departure  as  quickly  as 
possible. 

We  reached  Zug  at  half  past  eleven,  and  passing  by 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     85 

in  scorn  the  "Hirsch"  and  the  "Bellevue,"  and  dodg- 
ing the  gang  of  hotel-runners  and  commissionnaires  and 
guides  who  here  assailed  us,  we  proceeded  to  a  quiet 
little  inn,  the  "  Falken,"  where,  in  a  large  common 
dining-room,  we  ate  a  passable  dinner,  consisting  of 
soup  and  roast  meat,  sausage,  potatoes  and  cabbage, 
with  half  a  bottle  of  wine ;  price  a  franc  and  a  half  each. 
A  bad,  rough  German  is  the  language  of  the  common 
people  in  all  that  portion  of  Switzerland  through 
which  we  passed;  and  few  of  them  understand  a 
word  of  French.  Here,  however,  we  found  as  waiter, 
and  apparently  as  general  manager  of  the  eating  and 
drinking  department,  a  strapping  German  girl,  who 
had  picked  up  a  sufficiency  of  French  to  enable  us  to 
converse  with  her  upon  ordinary  topics.  She  served 
us  with  alacrity,  and  her  sympathetic  face  wore  an 
evident  look  of  pity  for  us  —  two  poor  strangers,  far 
away  from  home,  travelling  on  foot  with  heavy 
packs,  and  a  long  journey  before  us.  Her  sympathy 
indeed  took  a  practical  turn,  and  she  gave  us,  I  be- 
lieve, a  double  allowance  of  sausage.  Upon  leaving 
the  house,  which  wc  did  after  a  rest  of  three  hours, 
she  followed  us  to  the  door,  and  when  I  offered  her 
a  small  piece  of  money  for  service  she  refused  it ;  and 
as  we  reached  the  end  of  the  street,  turning  round  to 
take  a  last  look  at  the  "  Falken,"  wc  saw  Gretchcn 
still  standing' in  the  doorway,  following  our  footsteps 


86         AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

with  her  sympathetic  eyes.  Poor  Gretchen !  I  have 
always  been  more  than  half  disposed  to  believe  that 
her  big  good  heart  had  been  suddenly  warmed  with 
a  feeling  more  kindly  even  than  "  sympathy  "  for  my 
friend  "Warer. 

We  left  Zug  for  Arth,  at  the  other  end  of  the  lake, 
which  is  but  nine  miles  long  and  three  wide,  at  three 
o'clock,  and  reached  Arth,  lying  at  the  foot  of  the 
Rigi,  in  a  little  more  than  an  hour.  Here,  upon  land- 
ing, we  were  again  assailed  by  a  crowd  of  thirty  or  for- 
ty hotel-runners,  commissionnaires,  porters,  and  guides, 
who  offered  their  services  to  conduct  us  up  the  mount- 
ain either  on  foot  or  horseback.  We  shook  them 
off,  and,  forcing  our  way  through  them,  marched  on 
to  the  "Schussel,"  where  we  found  a  handsome  land- 
lady, and  a  fragrant  smell  from  the  kitchen.  So  we 
went  into  the  "Schussel,"  and  were  not  disappointed. 
An  excellent  supper  with  wine,  and  a  breakfast,  the 
universal  one  in  Switzerland,  tea  or  coffee,  bread, 
butter,  and  honey,  costing  us,  with  lodging,  but  four 
francs  each. 

The  rain  fell  in  the  morning  as  Warer  and  I,  noth- 
ing daunted,  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  Rigi  at 
seven  o'clock.  I  had,  and  I  presume  most  travellers 
going  for  the  first  time  into  Switzerland  have,  a  not 
very  well  defined  idea  that  their  ascent  of  mountains 
will  be  through  snow,  while  the  fact  is  that  in  "the 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     87 

season,"  and  upon  the  ordinary  travelled  routes,  the 
tourist  never  touches  snow  or  ice  expect  when  cross- 
ing a  glacier.  If  he  strike  from  the  beaten  path  and 
mount  into  the  higher  Alps,  then  indeed  he  will  find 
enough  of  it ;  but  the  routes  which  most  pedestrians 
follow  in  Switzerland  are  as  destitute  of  snow  as  are 
the  streets  of  Zurich. 

The  guide-books  inform  us  that  the  summit  of  the 
Eigi,  which  is  5541  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
and  4196  above  the  lake  of  Lucerne,  may  be  reached 
in  three  hours  and  a  half  from  Arth.  Its  perform- 
ance in  this  time,  however,  depends  upon  obedience 
to  one  of  the  guide-book  rules,  which  under  ordinary 
circumstances  is  a  good  one  for  the  pedestrian,  en- 
joining him  to  walk  slowly  and  steadily  at  the  rate 
of  sixty  steps  per  minute.  When  we  commenced  the 
ascent  the  rain  had  been  falling  for  some  days,  and 
the  broad  and  well-defined  path  had  been  trodden  by 
the  feet  of  horses  and  men  into  a  thick  paste,  through 
which  we  could  make  our  way  only  with  great  diffi- 
culty. A  soft  fine  rain,  wetting  all  the  trees  and  un- 
derbrush, which  in  turn  wetted  us  as  we  mounted,  was 
falling,  and  soon  a  thick  fog  enveloped  us,  shutting 
out  the  view  of  lake  and  verdant  valley.  And  so  we 
slowly,  and  rather  wearily,  wended  our  way  up  the 
mountain-side,  with  nothing  in  sight  above  or  below 
but  the  dripping  trees,  the  dullness  and  monotony  of 


88  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

the  scene  varied  only  by  the  occasional  appearance, 
looming  up  in  the  mist,  of  a  stray  cow  whose  ap- 
proach was  heralded  by  the  tinkling  of  a  bell,  which 
in  these  mountains  are  placed  upon  the  necks  of 
flocks  and  herds.  Now  and  then  we  met  a  traveller 
on  foot  or  on  horseback,  or  a  lady  carried  by  porters 
in  a  chair,  all  looking  damp  and  dismal,  and  as  anx- 
ious to  get  down  as  we  were  to  get  up.  There  was  not 
certainly  much  romance  in  this  ;  but  Warer,  who,  like 
Mark  Tapley,  considered  it  no  credit  to  be  jolly  ex- 
cepting under  unfavorable  circumstances,  told  some  of 
his  funniest  stories,  and  made  some  of  his  best  jokes, 
and  sang  the  refrain  of  an  amusing  song,  as  over 
stones,  under  trees,  and  through  mud,  we  picked  our 
way  upward.  With  good  walking  we  should  have 
reached  the  little  chapel  of  St.  Maria  zum  Schnee 
(our  Lady  of  the  Snow),  built  for  the  cowherds  at  a 
height  of  four  thousand  feet  up  the  mountain-side,  by 
ten  o'clock.  As  it  was,  the  Klosterli,  as  the  village 
consisting  of  half  a  dozen  houses  about  the  chapel  is 
called,  came  in  sight  at  noon,  and  we  were  glad 
enough  to  make  our  way  directly  to  the  "Schwert," 
an  unpretending  but  comfortable  little  inn,  with  a 
blazing  log-fire  in  the  dining-room,  and  from  whose 
kitchen  issued  the  savory  smell  of  boiling  cabbage. 
We  dried  ourselves  before  the  fire,  dined  well,  and 
rested  an  hour.      At  half  past  two  p.m.  we  reached 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     89 

the  Rigi-Staffel,  about  twenty  minutes'  walk  from  the 
Rigi-Kulm,  or  summit  of  the  mountain.  Here  we  de- 
termined to  remain  for  the  night,  and,  as  we  were 
soaked  through,  make  an  entire  change  of  clothing. 
In  the  house  we  found  several  tourists,  who  had  been 
waiting  three  days  in  vain  to  see  sunrise  and  sunset 
from  the  summit.  The  prospect  was  dismal  enough; 
and,  as  night  approached,  the  fog  seemed  to  grow 
thicker — the  "view"  in  every  direction  being  con- 
fined to  a  distance  of  less  than  six  inches  from  the 
window  of  the  inn.  Not  a  patch  of  blue  sky,  or  a 
single  snow  -  crowned  peak,  or  quiet  lake  or  green 
valley  far  down  the  mountain-side,  did  we  see  that 
day.  My  companion  contented  himself  with  mak- 
ing a  brilliant  sketch  of  a  "  Yiew  from  the  Rigi  in 
a  thick  fog,"  while  I  wrote  some  letters  from  "  up  in 
the  clouds." 

We  made  a  good  supper,  and  gave  orders  that  we 
should  be  called  at  four  o'clock,  so  that  if  there  were 
to  be  any  sunrise  we  could  reach  the  Kulm  in  time 
to  enjoy  it.  A  little  after  five  we  were  at  the  sum- 
mit, just  as  the  gray  of  dawn  was  beginning  to  streak 
the  eastern  sky  ;  the  gray  grew  whiter  and  clearer,  but 
no  sun  made  it  bright  and  transparent,  or  came  out  to 
throw  his  golden  glory  over  the  snow  which  covered 
the  mountains  for  a  circumference  of  three  hundred 
miles  around  us.     But  as  daylight  grew,  the  scene  be- 


90         AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

came  sufficiently  grand  and  beautiful.  Looking  to- 
ward the  east,  the  eye  rests  upon  a  mountain-chain 
more  than  a  hundred  miles  in  length,  embracing  some 
of  the  loftiest,  grandest,  and  most  celebrated  snow-cov- 
ered peaks  of  Switzerland.  The  huge  snowy  crest  of 
the  Grlarnisch,  the  Scheerhorn,  the  cone-like  Bristen- 
stock,  the  Blackenstock,  and  the  Uri-Roth stock,  side 
by  side,  and  both  so  near  that  their  shining  glaciers 
are  plainly  discernible ;  then  the  lofty  mountains  of 
the  Bernese  Oberland,  their  heights  covered  with  per- 
petual snow,  standing  up  like  a  mighty  barrier  against 
the  sky ;  the  Finsteraarhorn,  nearly  fourteen  thou- 
sand feet  in  height;  next  to  it  the  Schreckhorn, 
and  the  three  white  peaks  of  the  Wetterhorn,  look- 
ing as  pure  and  clean  and  delicate  as  loaves  of 
sugar;  the  Monch,  and  the  Eiger,  and  the  beautiful 
Jungfrau.  The  eye  becomes  bewildered  in  gazing 
upon  these  mountains,  and  turns  with  pleasure  to 
the  less  formidable  attractions  of  the  beautiful  scene 
below. 

The  commonplace  comparison  of  "  a  map  "  is  the 
only  one  which  will  convey  an  accurate  idea  of  the 
effect  of  looking  down  the  mountain  -  side.  Eleven 
lakes  are  seen  peacefully  lying  in  what  look  like  little 
holes  in  the  mountain,  and  directly  at  the  foot  of  the 
Rigi  are  those  of  Lucerne  and  Zug.  All  these  lakes 
are  insight.     The  trees  down  the  mountain-slope  and 


A  TRAMP  IN   THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     91 

by  the  margin  of  the  lakes  instantly  remind  one  of 
the  little  toy  trees  such  as  children  play  with  sur- 
rounding little  toy  houses.  Two  or  three  rivers  wind 
their  ways  through  the  valleys,  and  the  eye  can  follow 
their  courses  for  thirty  or  forty  miles.  Descending 
the  mountain  in  much  less  time  than  it  required  to 
mount,  Warer  stopping  to  sketch  a  singular  arch 
formed  of  two  huge  masses  of  conglomerate  which 
have  rolled  together,  and  upon  the  top  of  which  a 
third  one  has  tumbled,  we  reached  Waggis,  on  the 
lake,  where  we  were  to  take  the  boat  for  Lucerne  at 
ten  o'clock. 

The  sun  had  come  out  clear  and  bright  by  the  time 
we  reached  Lucerne,  where  we  secured  a  comfortable 
room  at  the  "  Linden  "  for  the  reasonable  sum  of  a 
franc  and  a  half  each,  and  then  proceeded  to  see  the 
lions  of  the  town,  the  principal  one  of  which  is  that 
of  Thorwaldsen,  and,  retiring  early,  rose  at  seven,  ar- 
ranged our  packs,  and  took  the  steam-boat  at  eight 
o'clock  for  Fluellen,  on  the  lake,  and  but  two  miles 
from  Altorf. 

In  point  of  picturesqueness  the  lake  of  Lucerne  is 
surpassed  by  none  in  Switzerland,  or  indeed  in  Eu- 
rope. It  is  shut  in  by  forest-clad  hills,  back  of  which 
rise  the  eternal  mountains,  their  snow-covered  tops 
frequently  seen  standing  clear  and  bright  in  the  sun- 
shine, while  clouds  are  playing  far  below  them.     The 


92  AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

slopes  of  the  hills  are  covered  with  fruit-trees  and 
gardens,  reaching  down  to  the  very  margin  of  the 
lake,  the  borders  of  which  are  rich  in  historical  as- 
sociations. We  pass  the  green  meadow  of  the 
Eutli,  where  the  conspirators  joined  hands  and  swore 
to  be  faithful  to  each  other,  and  not  to  rest  till 
they  had  delivered  their  soil  from  the  polluting 
tread  of  the  oppressor.  A  little  beyond  it  is  Tell's 
chapel,  erected  on  what  is  supposed  to  be  the  very 
spot  where  the  Swiss  hero  leaped  from  the  boat  of 
Gessler. 

Fluellen  is  the  point  of  debarkation  for  travellers 
who  intend  crossing  the  St.  Gothard  into  Italy,  and 
here  we  were  again  set  upon  by  a  horde  of  guides, 
who  pressed  their  services  upon  us.  As  a  rule,  the 
pedestrian  is  much  more  independent  without  a  guide 
than  with  one ;  and  unless  he  acts  as  porter  and  carries 
the  traveller's  pack,  he  is  really  of  very  little  use  on 
any  of  the  travelled  routes  or  over  the  well-known 
mountain-passes,  upon  which,  with  a  good  guide-book, 
an  ordinary  amount  of  judgment,  and  a  slight  knowl- 
edge of  German,  it  is  almost  impossible  for  a  traveller 
to  lose  his  way. 

In  ascending  the  higher  Alps,  among  the  snow, 
crossing  the  glaciers,  or  exploring  portions  of  the 
country  comparatively  unknown  and  but  little  trav- 
elled, a  guide  is  indispensable. 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     93 

A  pleasant  walk  of  ten  miles  through  gardens 
and  orchards  brought  us  to  Altorf — a  name  as  fa- 
miliar to  me  from  earliest  childhood  as  that  of  the 
village  in  which  I  was  born.  I  had  spouted  Tell's 
speech  to  the  "  men  of  Altorf,"  and  boldly  and  val- 
iantly, amidst  the  wonder  and  applause  of  the  au- 
dience, in  my  schoolboy  days,  knocked  down  and 
trampled  on  the  cap  and  "insolence  of  Gessler," 
little  dreaming  I  should  ever  stand  near  Tell's  na- 
tive village,  and  upon  the  very  spot,  perhaps,  where 
he  had  inspired  the  "  men  of  Altorf"  with  his  elo- 
quence. 

Historians  have  thrown  some  doubt  about  the  exist- 
ence of  William  Tell ;  but  no  man,  unless  he  be  very 
cold  and  skeptical,  can  remain  ten  minutes  in  the  lit- 
tle village  of  Altorf  without  yielding  implicit  faith  to 
the  fact  that  he  was  a  reality,  and  no  myth.  A  learn- 
ed savant  of  Switzerland,  a  few  years  since,  at  the 
meeting  of  a  historical  association  in  Geneva,  read  a 
paper  in  which  he  demonstrated,  to  his  own  satisfac- 
tion at  least,  that  William  Tell  was  a  creature  of  fa- 
ble. A  year  afterward  he  came  to  Altorf,  probably 
in  quest  of  further  information  in  support  of  his 
theory  ;  but  upon  the  inhabitants  learning  that  he  was 
there,  they  formed  themselves  into  a  posse  comitatus 
and  waited  upon  him  with  an  intimation  that  Altorf 
was    not  a  healthy  locality  for   him,  ami    that    they 


94         AN  AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

would  seriously  recommend  him  to  take  the  next 
boat  for  Lucerne.  He  instantly  comprehended  the 
force  of  their  shrewd  remarks,  and,  shaking  the  'dust 
of  Altorf  from  his  feet,  departed  and  returned  no 
more. 

Here,  in  a  little  square  in  the  centre  of  the  village, 
is  the  colossal  plaster  statue  of  Tell,  erected  upon  the 
very  spot  where  it  is  supposed  its  living  model  stood 
when  he  aimed  the  arrow  at  the  apple  on  Albert's 
head.  About  forty  yards  distant  is  a  fountain,  and 
a  statue  of  a  burly  bailiff  of  Altorf,  named  Besler. 
Besler  himself  erected  this  statue  at  his  own  expense. 
The  effigy  of  the  bailiff  is  supposed  to  stand  where 
the  lime-tree  grew,  at  whose  base  stood  the  noble 
child  of  Tell  during  those  terrible  moments  when  he 
awaited  the  arrow  from  his  father's  bow. 

We  had  left  our  packs  at  the  "  William  Tell,"  a 
little  inn  at  the  entrance  of  the  village,  while  we  ex- 
plored it,  and  so,  returning  to  the  "  Tell,"  we  ate  a 
bad  dinner,  and  a  little  after  noon,  as  the  rain  was  be- 
ginning to  patter  upon  the  flag-stones  of  Altorf,  we 
passed  out  of  the  village  on  the  great  St.  Gothard 
highway. 

I  had  purchased  an  alpenstock  on  the  Rigi,  but 
my  companion  looked  upon  the  alpenstock  as  a 
sham,  an  affectation,  and  a  weakness,  in  which  he 
would  not  indulge.     This  light  pole,  about  the  size  of 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     95 

an  ordinary  broomstick,  and  seven  feet  in  length, 
with  a  sharp  prong  at  the  end,  and  which  is  always 
used  by  the  mountaineers  in  Switzerland,  I  found  of 
great  service  before  our  trip  was  ended,  particularly 
in  our  subsequent  mountain  climbing.  Upon  reach- 
ing Fluellen,  we  considered  our  pedestrian  excursion 
fairly  commenced,  and  intended  accepting  the  services 
of  neither  man,  beast,  or  steam-engine,  as  aids  to  loco- 
motion, till  it  was  completed. 

The  circumstances  attending  it  were  certainly  un- 
propitious.  We  had  time  to  take  a  run  up  into  the 
Banmvald,  or  sacred  forest,  near  the  old  Capuchin 
monastery.  The  trees  of  the  forest  are  never  touched 
bv  the  axe  of  the  woodman,  as  they  are  a  protection 
to  Altorf  from  the  rocks  which  roll  and  tumble  from 
the  summit  of  the  steep  hill  that  overhangs  the  vil- 
lage. We  had  time  to  stray  a  little  from  the  main 
road  to  see  the  village  of  Burglen,  where  Tell  was 
born,  and  where  a  chapel,  whose  walls  are  covered 
with  painted  scenes  from  his  life,  stands  upon  the  site 
of  his  birth-place. 

There  was  little  in  our  journey  of  that  day  that 
was  cheerful  or  interesting.  The  country  through 
which  we  were  passing  was  level,  and  slightly  diver- 
sified, and  but  one  mountain  of  any  considerable  alti- 
tude, the  black  fir-covered  pyramid  of  the  Bristen- 
3tock,  was  in  sight     Amstag,  which  lies  at  the  foot 


96  AN  AMERICAN   JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 

of  this,  was  our  destination,  and  we  reached  it,  wet, 
tired,  and  not  in  the  best  humor,  about  six  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon. 

As  we  approached  the  Italian  canton  of  Tessin, 
which  borders  upon  Lombardy,  we  could  not  fail  to 
observe  a  marked  change  in  the  physiognomy  and 
speech  of  the  people.  Upon  reaching  the  outskirts 
of  Amstag,  we  were  surrounded  by  a  troop  of  beggar- 
boys  and  girls,  such  as  now  appear  to  the  stranger  at 
the  entrance  of  every  Swiss  village.  It  seemed  as 
though  each  family  in  the  town  had  sent  a  deputation 
to  make  an  attack  on  our  pockets.  Throughout  the 
whole  country,  the  rising  generation  is  growing  up 
a  nation  of  beggars ;  everywhere,  on  all  the  public 
roads,  on  the  mountain-passes,  on  their  very  summits 
among  the  snows,  nearly  every  child  the  traveller 
meets  asks  him  for  money.  In  the  little  chalets  in 
which  the  herdsmen  live,  they  watch  for  his  approach, 
and  run  out  to  meet  him,  and  persistently  follow  him 
as  long  as  there  is  the  slightest  hope  of  softening  his 
heart  and  opening  his  pocket.  It  is  a  disgrace  to  the 
Swiss  Government  that  measures  are  not  adopted  to 
put  a  stop  to  this  serious  annoyance.  We  "descend- 
ed" at  the  "Lowe,"  in  Amstag,  a  wretched  inn, 
which  every  traveller  having  a  proper  regard  for  his 
stomach  and  his  purse  will  carefully  avoid,  and  which 
we  left  as  soon  as  possible. 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     97 

It  was  a  beautifully  clear  and  sunny  morning  as 
we  left  Amstag,  and,  crossing  over  the  bridge,  took 
the  road  toward  the  great  St.  Gothard,  up  the  valley 
of  the  Eeuss,  which  leaps,  and  rushes,  and  foams,  and 
tumbles  in  graceful  cascades  and  waterfalls  down  the 
steep  ravine  through  which  it  runs.  Before  us,  in 
the  distant  blue,  rose  the  St.  Gothard  ridge ;  on  our 
left  was  the  black  pyramid  of  the  Bristenstock,  and 
piled  till  around  and  above  us  mountains,  on  whose 
sides,  far  up  toward  their  summits,  little  patches  of 
snow  were  lying,  and  small  glaciers  sparkling  like 
beds  of  diamonds  in  the  morning  sunshine.  All 
along  this  valley  the  hillsides  are  covered  with  a  del- 
icate reddish  lichen,  having  the  odor  of  the  violet, 
and  calied  the  "  violet-moss."  We  passed  through 
several  little  villages,  and  crossed  over  a  succession 
of  bridges,  and,  continually  ascending  the  torrent  of 
the  Eeuss,  which  becomes  more  and  more  rapid  in  its 
fall,  we  reached  about  noon  the  wonder  on  this  road, 
the  Teufelsbriicke,  or  Devil's  Bridge. 

A  scene*  of  wildness  and  desolation  here  appears. 
The  river,  formed  into  a  beautiful  waterfall,  plunges 
into  a  black  depth  a  hundred  feet  below,  and  throws 
its  spray  all  above  and  around.  Bocks  are  piled 
and  tumbled  in  its  bed,  and,  leaping  over  and  cours- 
ing around  them,  dashing  up  against  them,  the  riv- 
er, lashed  into  a  thick  white  creamy  foam,  pursues 

5 


98  AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

its  way,  and  high  above  the  fall  the  single-arched 
bridge  is  spanning  it.  Above  the  bridge  the  river  is 
obstructed  with  rocks  ;  its  banks  are  barren  and  des- 
olate; and  a  gust,  which  the  natives  facetiously  call 
the  Hutschelm,  or  "  hat  rogue,"  bears  with  it  the  wet 
and  spray  into  the  traveller's  face  as  he  crosses  the 
bridge,  or  stops  to  gaze  into  the  abyss  beneath  him. 

Five  minutes'  walk  brought  us  to  a  tunnel  cut 
through  the  solid  rock,  and  called  the  Urner  *Loch. 
When  we  had  emerged  from  this,  we  found  ourselves 
at  the  entrance  of  a  broad  valley,  where  the  Reuss  no 
longer  tumbles  and  leaps,  "but  flows  gently  and  sweet- 
ly through  its  rich,  grassy  meadows.  What  a  contrast 
to  the  scene  we  had  left  behind  us  !  there  all  was  tur- 
moil, confusion,  and  savage  wildness;  here  stillness, 
order,  and  peaceful  beauty.  "'Tis  a  type  of  life," 
moralized  my  companion ;  "  and  in  our  stormiest 
hours  we  should  always  remember  that  hedging  our 
very  pathway  there  may  be  awaiting  us  a  smiling 
valley  of  beauty,  and  of  calm." 

The  Rasselas  valley  into  which  we  now  entered 
was  the  vale  of  Uri,  nine  miles  long,  and  about  three 
wide.  It  is  shut  in  by  itself,  and  out  from  all  the 
world,  by  barren  and  partially  snow-covered  mount- 
ains, above  which  the  sun  in  midsummer  rises  late. 
Eight  months  of  the  year  here  are  considered  winter, 
and   during  the  remaining  four  fires  are  frequently 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.     99 

necessary  to  comfort.  The  inhabitants  live  by  flocks 
and  herds,  and  by  guiding  travellers  and  transporting 
their  luggage  over  the  St.  Grothard. 

About  two  miles  from  the  "Devil's  Bridge"  is 
Andermatt,  a  little  village,  where  we  made  an  excel- 
lent dinner  for  three  francs  at  the  "  Poste,"  in  whose 
register  we  left  a  warning  to  travellers  against  pa- 
tronizing the  Lowe  at  Amstag.  After  this  we  pursued 
our  journey,  passing  through  Hospenthal,  where  wc 
left  the  St.  Gothard  road,  and  on  to  the  inconsidera- 
ble village  of  Eealp,  where  we  were  to  stop  for  the 
night.  It  was  nearly  dark  when  we  arrived  at  the  lit- 
tle hospice  formerly  inhabited  by  some  Capuchin 
monks,  but  now  converted  into  an  inn.  It  contains 
but  three  rooms,  however,  and  is  still  presided  over 
by  Father  Arsenius,  a  Capuchin,  with  a  long  gown, 
and  the  bare  feet  and  shaven  head  of  his  order. 

We  supped  passably,  slept  soundly,  and  breakfast- 
ed early  at  the  hospice  of  Realp,  and  were  charged  but 
four  francs  each;  and  at  half  past  six  o'clock  in  the 
foggy  morning,  which  soon  changed  to  a  rainy  one, 
wc  shouldered  our  packs,  and,  bidding  good-bye  to 
the  Capuchin,  took  our  way  up. the  rugged  mount 
a  in-side  toward  the  Furca,  which  we  reached  between 
nine  and  ten  o'clock,  thoroughly  drenched. 

The  "Furca,"  so  called  from  its  two  peaks,  which 
bear  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  the  prongs  of  a  fork,  is 


100        AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

a  mountain  ridge  at  an  elevation  of  nearly  eight  thou- 
sand feet.  Thence,  in  clear  weather,  a  fine  view  of 
the  Bernese  Alps,  and  especially  of  the  lofty  Fin- 
steraarhorn,  is  obtained.  We  saw  nothing  from  it, 
however,  but  a  pig-pen  and  a  chicken-coop,  about  six 
yards  distant  from  the  inn  window.  In  the  dining- 
room  we  found  a  good  fire,  at  which  we  dried  our 
shoes,  and  met  some  English  and  American  pedes- 
trians, who  had  come  from  the  other"  direction. 
Among  the  travellers  whom  the  fog  had  delayed  on 
the  Furca,  were  two  gentlemen  who  had  recently  as- 
cended Monte  Eosa.  Both  of  them  bore  evidence  of 
having  seen  hard  service — one,  with  frozen  feet,  being 
scarcely  able  to  walk,  and  the  other  with  his  face  and 
lips  covered  with  festering  blisters. 

The  fog  and  rain  had  nearly  ceased  when,  leaving 
the  Furca,  we  descended  the  steep  and  rugged  slope 
toward  the  Glacier  du  Ehone,  which  soon  appeared 
in  sight.  There  it  lay  below  us!  a  sea  of  ice,  about 
four  miles  in  width,  and  reaching  eighteen  miles  up 
into  the  valleys,  in  which  it  lies  imbedded  between 
the  Gelmerhorn  and  the  Gersthorn  on  the  one  side, 
and  the  barren  Galenstock,  which  we  had  been  as- 
cending and  descending,  on  the  other.  This  was  the 
first  glacier  of  any  importance  which  we  had  seen, 
and  for  nearly  an  hour  we  skirted  its  base,  looking 
up  toward  its  summit.     The  first  impression  was  that 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.    101 

of  a  mighty  cataract,  suddenly  frozen  as  it  fell,  and 
tumbled  down  the  valley  between  the  mountains. 
The  ice  which  forms  it  is  rough  and  honey-combed 
upon  the  surface,  but  on  the  sides  of  the  immense 
yawning  fissures  which  open  all  over  it  it  is  pure 
and  clear  as  crystal.  We  did  not  go  on  the  glacier, 
but  followed  the  path  just  by  the  edge  of  the  mount- 
ain, within  a  few  feet  of  whose  base  the  glacier 
reaches,  and  over  the  moraine,  or  rocks  and  stones, 
which  these  immense  moving  masses  of  ice  bear  down 
with  them. 

Coursing  its  way  beneath  a  vaulted  arch  of  clear 
blue-tinted  ice,  its  waters  tinged  with  gray,  flows  a 
narrow  little  stream  from  the  side  of  the  glacier,  and 
here,  with  the  aid  of  the  alpenstock,  I  could  have 
leaped  across  it.  This  is  the  source  of  the  Rhone, 
which,  flowing  on,  and  gathering  force  and  size  from 
mountain  streams  and  melting  snows,  gradually  be- 
comes a  might}'  river,  discharging  itself  into  the  Med- 
iterranean after  a  course  of  five  hundred  miles. 

We  had  intended  crossing  the  mountain,  which 
rises  abruptly  just  after  passing  the  glacier,  and  reach- 
ing the  Grimsel  Jiosjnce  before  night,  and  had  com- 
menced the  ascent,  when  a  persistent  guide,  who  had 
evidently  been  on  the  lookout  for  us,  drew  such  a 
terrible  picture  of  the  danger  we  ran  of  losing  our 
way,  that  we  concluded  to  stop  at  the  hotel  for  the 


102       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

night.  We  met  there  an  Irish  gentleman  and  his 
young  bride,  who  were  making  a  pedestrian  trip 
through  Switzerland — their  wedding-tour.  They  had 
already  been  two  months  traversing  the  mountain- 
passes  and  valleys,  usually  walking  from  eight  to  ten 
hours  a  day — taking  an  amount  of  exercise  which 
would  probably  appall  the  young  brides  of  Ameri- 
ca. As  they  were  going  our  way,  and  were  to  leave 
the  next  morning,  we  joined  them,  starting  at  six 
o'clock,  in  a  thick  fog,  up  the  Maienwand,  blooming 
now  with. Alpine  flowers.  The  gentleman  was  dress- 
ed very  much  as  were  my  companion  and  myself, 
while  the  lady  wore  a  short  skirt  and  a  round  straw 
hat,  and  she,  as  well  as  her  husband,  carried  the  al- 
penstock, and  trudged  along  bravely  and  firmly  as 
any  of  us  in  that  long  day's  march.  Upon  reaching 
the  summit,  what  was  our  surprise  to  find  our  friend 
of  the  evening  before  awaiting  us  to  pilot  us  down  to 
the  Grrimsel.  Whether  he  had  patiently  remained 
there  all  night  we  did  not  ask  him,  but  coming  to 
the  conclusion  that  so  much  perseverance  ought  to 
be  rewarded,  we  permitted  him  to  lead  us  down  the 
stony,  rugged  mountain-side. 

At  the  old  convent,  or  rather  hospice,  of  the  Grin- 
sel,  where,  in  former  times,  a  few  good  monks  lived 
to  furnish  food  and  shelter  to  weary  and  benighted 
travellers,  we  made  an  excellent  breakfast  of  bread 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.   103 

and  milk.  Our  path  for  the  jest  of  the  day  lay 
through  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Aare,  walled  up 
on,  either  side  with  mountains  of  bald-faced  rock. 
The  river  is  repeatedly  crossed  by  old,  romantic, 
grass-grown  stone  bridges  of  a  single  arch ;  and  as  my 
companion  stopped  two  or  three  times  to  sketch  these, 
I  amused  myself  in  the  mean  time  by  rolling  boulders 
over  the  rocks  which  line  the  rapid,  tumbling  river, 
or  plucking  Alpine  roses  for  my  book  of  floral  sou- 
venirs. We  reached  the  falls  of  Handeck  about  noon, 
and,  after  dinner  at  a  little  chalet,  visited  the  fall, 
where  the  river  comes  pouring  headlong  down  into 
an  abyss  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  deep.  Our 
companions  were  in  ecstasies ;  but  Warer  and  I,  who 
had  seen,  not  onty  Niagara,  but  the  Rhine-fall,  affect- 
ed superior  knowledge,  and  treated  it  as  a  small  af- 
fair. 

All  through  this  wild  and  beautiful  valley  the 
scene  was  rendered  still  more  picturesque  by  numer- 
ous mountain  torrents  falling  in  fleecy,  sheety  clearness 
from  the  heights  above  us,  and  scattering  their  spray 
around  us  as  they  fell.  Warer,  who  had  once  made  a 
trip  to  the  Yoscmitc  Valley  in  California,  had  during 
all  the  former  portion  of  our  tramp,  whenever  I  had 
expressed  particular  admiration  for  any  grand  feature* 
of  the  scenery,  been  in  the  habit  of  dampening  my  ar- 
dor by  giving  his  nose  an  upward  inflection,  ami  say- 


10-i       AN    AMERICAN    JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

ing  that  "it  was  nothing  to  Yosemite."  In  fact,  a 
little  childish  pettishness  had  grown  up  in  both  of  us, 
and  I,  in  revenge,  whenever  I  saw  any  thing  on  the 
route  particularly  uninteresting,  retorted  by  asking  if 
he  had  seen  "any  thing  in  Yosemite  equal  to  that?" 
However,  during  that  day  in  the  Haslithal,  this  beau- 
tiful valley  of  the  Aare,  we  dropped  our  badinage  in 
the  presence  of  these  grand  old  mountains  and  leap- 
ing cascades,  and  after  that  I  heard  no  more  of  Yo- 
semite. 

We  reached  Meiringen  a  little  after  six  o'clock, 
having  made  an  actual  day's  travel  of  ten  hours.  We 
were  already  becoming  old  pedestrians,  and  it  is  real- 
ly astonishing  how,  after  the  first  few  days  of  a  foot- 
tramp,  one  becomes  hardened,  and  enabled  to  under- 
go a  double  quantity  of  fatigue.  Although  certainty 
a  little  tired,  a  good  supper  at  the  Krone  and  our 
usual  change  of  stockings  and  shoes  soon  refreshed 
us  so  much  that  Warer  proposed  a  walk  of  a  mile  or 
two  up  the  valley  to  digest  our  dinner  and  give  us  an 
appetite  for  sleep. 

The  next  morning  we  started  at  six  o'clock,  but 
when  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  inn,  Warer 
stopped  to  make  a  sketch.  What  children  we  are ! 
•I  was  impatient  to  proceed,  and  it  seemed  altogether 
too  early  in  the  morning  for  my  companion  to  stand 
there,  considering  the  long  day's  march  before  us. 


A   TEAM?    IN   THE   BERNESE   OBERLAM).        105 

So,  as  he  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  his  work,  I  slowly 
continued  my  way  up  the  mountain-path.  We  had 
said  nothing  to  each  other,  but  we  both  understood 
very  well  that  there  was  a  little  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  who  should  be  leader.  I  walked  slowly  on, 
thinking  Warer  would  soon  follow  me,  until  the 
mountain  firs  and  bushes  shut  him  out  from  my  sight. 
Then  I  regretted  my  hastiness,  and  sat  down  and 
waited  for  his  coming;  but  an  hour  passed,  and  he 
came  not,  and  so  I  proceeded,  determining  to  wait 
again  when  I  reached  the  summit  of  the  mountain. 
I  passed  by  the  celebrated  falls  of  the  Eeichenbach, 
scarcely  looking  at  them,  for  I  knew  I  should  not  en- 
joy them  alone,  and  hastened  to  reach  the  mountain- 
top,  not  even  stopping  to  patronize  the  young  woman 
who,  in  a  little  chalet  on  the  mountain-side,  for  a  few 
sous,  enables  Swiss  travellers  to  say  with  truth  that 
they  have  seen  a  chamois. 

On  the  summit  of  this  mountain  the  eye  rests  upon 
a  scene  of  grandeur  which  I  do  not  believe  is  surpass- 
ed in  Switzerland.  The  lofty  Wetterhorn,  shaped 
like  a  sugarloaf,  and  covered  with  pure  snow,  which 
seems  at  the  distance  to  have  been  laid  on  evenly  and 
smoothly  like  plaster,  raises  its  head  high  above  the 
two  bare  peaks  of  the  Wellborn  and  the  Englehorn. 
The  contrast  between  the  snowy  softness  of  the  one, 
and  the   rugged,  craggy  gray  of  the  others,  is  very 

5* 


106        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST-  IN   EUROPE. 

striking ;  and  the  effect  is  heightened  by  the  view  at 
the  mountain  bases  of  a  long  stretch  of  fresh  pasture- 
lands  covered  with  chalets  and  herds  of  cattle.  But  I 
did  not  half  enjoy  this  scene.  My  eyes  would  turn 
from  it  backward  to  the  mountain-path  I  had  ascend- 
ed, and  up  which  I  hoped  every  moment  to  see  com- 
ing the  tall  figure  of  my  companion.  But  he  came 
not ;  and  again  bitterly  regretting  my  hastiness,  after 
waiting  an  hour  with  a  really  sad  and  heavy  heart,  I 
shouldered  my  pack,  and,  descending  the  mountain- 
side, crossed  the  pasture  to  Eosenlaui. 

There  are  some  baths  here,  and  the  day  being  fear- 
fully hot,  I  was  half  inclined  to  rest,  but  I  only  stray- 
ed aside  a  few  minutes  to  see  the  celebrated  glacier 
remarkable  for  the  purity  of  its  ice  and  its  blue  color. 
Near  its  base  lives  an  old  man,  who,  as  I  approached 
it,  followed  me,  and  proposed  that  I  should  enter  it. 
As  the  idea  of  entering  a  glacier  was  something  new,  I 
consented,  and,  mounting  a  ladder  upon  its  side,  soon 
found  myself  really  in  its  interior,  in  a  chamber  twen- 
ty feet  long  and  seven  feet  high,  whose  walls,  floors, 
and  ceilings  were  of  clear,  solid,  blue  ice.  I  found  it 
damp  and  chilly  though,  and  soon  took  my  way  up  the 
mountain-side  toward  the  summit  of  the  great  Schei- 
deck. 

As  I  climbed  the  steep  and  rugged  mountain,  in 
most  places   free  from  vegetation,  and  beneath  the 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND.  '  107 

burning  heat  of  a  meridian  sun,  my  ears  were  saluted 
with  a  sound  which,  though  at  first  pleasant,  from  its 
frequent  repetition  soon  became  an  intolerable  nui- 
sance. All  along  these  mountain-paths  are  men  who 
keep  a  sharp  lookout  for  travellers  coming  up  or  go- 
ing down.  The  moment  one  appears,  the  looker-out 
returns  to  his  post  and  sounds  the  Alpenhorn — an  in- 
strument of  bark  or  wood,  six  or  eight  feet  in  length, 
whose  notes  are  clear  and  silvery  as  those  of  a  bugle. 
But  it  soon  becomes  to  the  traveller  an  instrument  of 
torture,  particularly  as  its  blast  is  always  followed  by 
the  importunities  of  the  blower,  who,  hat  in  hand,  per- 
sistently pleads  for,  or  rather  demands  money  for  his 
artistic  services.  The  whole  of  this  day's  route  was 
strewn  with  beggars  of  every  description.  Little  chil- 
dren with  Alpenroses  or  berries  clung  to  me  and  im- 
plored me  to  buy ;  old  men  and  old  women,  lame, 
halt,  and  blind,  whiningly  asked  for  aid;  and  "Swiss 
maidens,"  whose  rough,  unhandsome  laces,  dumpy 
figures,  and  unpicturesque  costumes,  put  to  flight  any 
romantic  ideas  I  might  have  entertained  in  regard  to 
them,  came  in  troops  to  the  roadside  and  held  out 
their  hands  as  I  passed.  The  most  impudent  attempt 
at  extortion  was  that  of  a  fellow  who,  spying  me  from 
a  distance,  rose  from  the  stone  on  which  he  was  repos- 
ing, with  a  pick  in  his  hand,  and  demanded  pay  for 
mending  the  road!      The   road  was  of  almost  solid 


108       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

rock,  and  his  pick  scarcely  could  have,  and  certainly 
never  had  penetrated  it. 

A  little  after  noon  I  reached  the  Scheideck,  ly- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  Wetterhorn,  covered  with  eter- 
nal snow,  and  nearly  twelve  thousand  feet  in  height. 
Here,  after  dinner,  and  a  couple  of  hours  rest,  I  start- 
ed down  the  mountain-side  toward  the  lovely  valley 
and  glacier  of  Grindelwald. 

Where  was  my  friend  Warer,  whom  I  had  so  has- 
tily quitted  in  the  morning,  all  this  time?  Had  he 
become  disgusted  with  Swiss  travel  and  turned  back, 
or  had  he  lost  his  way  in  the  mountains  ?  I  began 
to  be  alarmed,  and  thought  seriously  of  returning ; 
but,  reflecting  that  the  probability  of  finding  him 
would  be  but  slight,  pursued  my  journey.  When 
near  the  base  of  the  mountain,  and  just  as  I  was  en- 
tering the  charming  little  valley,  what  was  my  delight 
at  spying  Warer  not  far  ahead,  seated  upon  a  rock, 
and  making  a  sketch  of  the  Wetterhorn.  I  overtook 
him  as  soon  as  possible.  Between  us  no  verbal  apolo- 
gies were  necessary.  He  had,  it  seems,  taken  another 
path  up  to  the  falls  of  Eeichenbach,  and  had  preceded 
me  about  an  hour.  He  finished  his  sketch  while  I 
rested,  and  then,  just  as  the  sinking  sun  was  convert- 
ing the  snow  of  the  Wetterhorn  into  rich,  yellow 
cream,  we  descended  together  into  the  village  of 
Grindelwald. 


A   TRAMP    IN    THE    BERNESE   OBERLAND.         109 

This  lies  directly  at  the  foot  of  two  extensive  gla- 
ciers, which  reach  in  some  places  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  houses,  and  look  as  though  they  might  some 
day  bury  the  valley  in  their  icy  folds. 

In  the  morning  Warer  and  I  determined  to  make 
as  much  of  an  inspection  of  the  lower  or  larger  gla- 
cier as  we  could  do  with  safety  without  a  guide,  as 
we  had  both  egotistically  determined  to  have  nothing 
to  do  with  this  valuable  and  frequently  indispensa- 
ble class  of  persons  during  our  entire  trip. 

On  this  occasion  we  came  very  near  repenting  our 
folly  and  seriously  suffering  for  our  egotism.  Hav- 
ing reached  the  base  of  the  lower  glacier,  which  is 
here  3150  feet  wide,  at  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, we  climbed  over  the  mass  of  moraine — broken 
rocks  and  stones — which  the  moving  glacier  bears 
down  in  its  course,  and  soon  reached  the  ice  itself. 
For  some  time  we  found  no  difficulty  in  picking  our 
way  across  the  small  fissures,  and  over  the  little  humps 
of  this  icy  cataract,  but  soon  discovered  that  we  had 
better  go  no  farther  on  the  ice,  as  we  were  approach- 
ing broader  and  deeper  fissures,  and  places  more  -diffi- 
cult to  pass.  So  we  retraced  our  steps,  and,  reaching 
the  .foot  of  the  glacier,  decided  that  we  would  go  up 
the  mountain-path  by  the  side  of  it,  and  obtain  our 
view  of  it  from  a  point  less  dangerous  than  the  one 
we  had  been  approach ing. 


110       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

For  a  time  the  steep  path  which  leads  up  the  side  of 
the  glacier  was  plainly  enough  marked,  but  we  strayed 
a  little  away  from  it  to  pluck  some  Alpine  flowers, 
growing  in  wild  luxuriance  and  in  strange  contrast 
by  the  side  of  this  sea  of  ice,  and  often  within  a  few 
feet  of  it.  But  in  gathering  our  flowers  we  had  lost 
our  path,  and  for  more  than  an  hour  looked  for  it  in 
vain.  Frequently  we  were  obliged  to  cling  to  bushes 
and  tree-limbs,  and  leap  over  fissures  in  the  rock, 
where,  had  we  missed  our  foothold,  we  should  inevi- 
tably have  fallen  far  down  upon  the  glacier.  How 
we  wished  then  we  had  either  remained  quietly  at 
Grindelwald,  pursued  our  journey,  or  taken  a  guide ! 
At  length  Warer,  with  his  sharp  eyes,  found,  or,  as 
he  modestly  expressed  it,  "  stumbled  upon"  the  path, 
and,  as  rapidly  as  could  be,  we  pursued  our  way 
downward,  turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  the  left. 

A  little  after  one  o'clock  we  left  Grindelwald,  and 
struck  up  the  bleak  path,  on  our  way  to  the  Wenger- 
nalp,  at  the  foot  of  the  Jungfrau.  For  the  first  time 
on  our  trip,  we  heard  and  saw  avalanches  this  aft- 
ernoon, while  we  were  seated  in  a  cool  and  shady  spot, 
which  we  had  reached  after  a  tramp  of  more  than  an 
hour  up  the  steep,  barren,  and  treeless  mountain. 
Suddenly  a  noise,  somewhat  similar  to  the  beating  of 
surf  upon  the  beach,  broke  upon  our  ears,  and  started 
us  both  from  our  seats.     Louder  and  louder  it  grew, 


A  TRAMP  IX  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAXD.    Ill 

and  looking  off  in  the  distance,  perhaps  half  a  dozen 
miles  away,  we  saw  a  cataract  tumbling  down  the 
mountain-side,  and  carrying  every  thing  in  its  path. 
This  is  the  ice  avalanche,  caused  by  portions  of  a  gla- 
cier becoming  detached  by  the  heat  of  the  sun ;  and 
this  white  cascade  often  consists  of  immense  blocks  of 
ice  capable  of  sweeping  away  forests  and  villages.  The 
latter,  however,  are  seldom  built  in  too  close  proxim- 
ity to  these  ice  mountains. 

We  reached  the  Wengernalp,  directly  facing  the 
Jungffau,  a  little  before  sunset.  We  had  seen  it  in 
the  distance  for  several  hours,  but  now  that  we  were 
fully  before  its  face,  it  assumed  a  new  majesty  and 
beauty.  Its  cloud-piercing  heights  covered  with  their 
eternal  shroud  of  snow;  its  two  pure  and  gigantic 
peaks,  the  Silverhorn  and  the  Schneehorn;  its  lower 
slopes  dotted  with  sparkling  glaciers  and  fields  of 
snow,  all  bewildered  and  amazed  us.  We  could  not 
find  expression  for  the  full  gratification  of  our  senses 
of  beauty  and  of  grandeur,  and  gazed  upon  the  Jung- 
frau  in  silence  till  the  falling  shades  of  evening  shut  it 
from  our  view. 

A  few  moments  after  our  arrival  on  the  Wenger- 
nalp two  travellers  came  up,  who,  it  appeared,  had 
hired  a  mule  together,  to  convey  their  luggage  from 
M'.iringen.  One  was  a  German  and  the  other  a 
Frenchman,  and  neither  understood  scarcely  a  word 


112       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

of  the  other's  language.  After  supper  they  under- 
took to  reckon  up  the  expenses  of  the  past  week's 
trip,  during  which  time  they  had  been  travelling  to- 
gether. The  Frenchman,  who  had  kept  the  accounts, 
presented  the  German  with  a  bill  made  out  in  French, 
of  course,  to  all  of  which  the  German  assented,  with 
the  exception  of  one  item.  His  travelling  compan- 
ion told  him  over  and  over  in  his  vernacular  that  this 
was  for  his  share  of  the  mule,  but  his  Teutonic  friend 
could  not  or  would  not  understand.  A  happy  idea 
suddenly  struck  "Warer,  who,  seizing  his  pencil, 
sketched  in  a  moment  a  large  mule,  which  he  exhib- 
ited to  the  German,  and  then  with  his  knife  cut  it  in 
two  equal  parts,  giving  one  to  each.  It  was  "plain  as 
day,  and  the  Teuton  instantly  comprehended  that  the 
charge  was  for  his  half  of  the  animal,  which  Warer 
had  so  graphically  pictured  and  divided. 

All  that  night  we  were  frequently  awakened  by 
the  thunders  of  the  avalanches  pouring  down  the 
sides  of  the  Jungfrau.  In  the  morning  we  took  an 
early  start,  and  descended  into  the  picturesque  little 
valley  and  village  of  Lauterbrunnen,  so  shut  in  among 
the  mountains  that  in  July  the  sun  does  not  rise  till 
seven,  and  in  winter  not  before  noon.  We  visited 
the  Staubach,  a  fall  of  no  great  volume,  but  an  un- 
broken one  of  925  feet,  and  then  taking  the  broad  car- 
riage-road which  leads  along  the  banks  of  the  Lut- 


JUffaFRAU     ^GLACER^V 


SKETCH    OF   OUR   TRAMP. 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  BERNESE  OBERLAND. 


115 


schine,  reached  the  beautifully  situated  straggling 
town  of  Interlaken  a  little  after  noon  on  the  tenth 
day  from  that  on  which  we  climbed  the  hill  above 
Horgen. 

Here  our  foot-tramp  was  to  end.  We  had  been 
ten  days  on  the  route,  and  during  that  time  had  seen 
the  best  part  of  the  Bernese  Oberland.  Our  expenses 
from  Zurich  to  Interlaken  were  seventy-eight  francs 
each,  or  a  little  l'ess  than  eight  francs  a  day,  and  the 
pedestrian  may  easily  travel  anywhere  in  Switzer- 
land for  this.  We  remained  at  Interlaken  that  after- 
noon,, and  the  next  morning  Warer  and  I  parted.  I 
was  to  go  back  to  Paris  and  to  work,  and  he  to  make 
his 'way  on  foot  in  part,  and  in  diligence  in  part,  over 
the  great  St.  Gothard  into  Italy.  His  last  letter  to 
me  is  from  Venice,  where  he  is  still  sitting  modestly 
and  hopefully,  pencil  in  hand,  at  the  feet  of  the  great 
old  masters. 


-<>£ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN    THE     "MONT     CENIS "     TUNNEL — THROUGH     THE 
HEART   OF  THE   ALPS. 

The  great  engineering  Work  of  the  Century. — A  Journey  into  the 
"  Bowels  of  the  Earth." — San  Michel. — The  Village  of  Fourneaux, 
and  its  People. — Its  beautiful  Surroundings. — History  of  the  En- 
terprise.— Anticipated  Difficulties  and  Obstacles. — Map  of  the  Tun- 
nel and  its  Vicinity. — The  motive  Power. — Air  pressed  into  the 
Service. — The  Operations  commenced.  —  My  Visit  to  the  Tunnel. 
— Preparations  for  entering. — In  the  "Bowels  of  the  Earth." — 
Darkness  visible. — Breathing  becomes  difficult. — A  Halt  and  Rest. 
—  Among  the  Workmen.  —  An  unpleasant  Predicament.  —  The 
Blast.— The  "  Advanced  Gallery. "—The  Construction  and  Action 
of  the  perforating  Machines. — The  Work  performed  by  them. — 
First  Sight  of  the  "  Affusto."— Immense  Wear  and  Tear  of  Ma- 
terial.— Accidents. — Termination  and  Success  of  the  Enterprise. 

rpHROUGH  the  fertile  vine  hills,  and  over  the 
-*-  broad  extended  plains  of  Burgundy — by  Dijon, 
Macon,  Chamberry,  Culoz,  and  Aix,  winding  grace- 
fully around,  and  suddenly  darting  into  and  out  of 
tunnels  on  the  borders  of  the  lovely,  lonely  lake  of 
Bourgy,  and  then  along  the  banks  of  the  Arc — the 
railway  train,  in  its  progress  from  Paris  toward  Tu- 
rin, finally  arrives  at  the  little  Savoyard  village  of 
San  Michel.  From  this  point  the  Italy-ward  travel- 
ler now  passes  through  the  barren  valley  to  Lansle- 


THE   MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  117 

Bourg,  at  the  foot  of  Mont  Cenis,  crosses  this  to  Susa, 
and  proceeds  to  Turin.  In  a  year  or  two,  if  no  un- 
foreseen event  occur,  this  route  will  be  materially 
changed,  and  travellers  giving  San  Michel  the  go-by, 
and  continuing  in  the  railway  carriage  up  the  banks 
of  the  Arc,  instead  of  scaling  the  Alps,  will  go  rush- 
ing through  their  stony  heart. 

I  had  left  Paris  provided  with  a  "  permit "  to  visit 
the  great  Alpine  tunnel  and  inspect  the  novel  air- 
compressing  machinery,  and,  having  left  the  railway 
at  San  Michel,  succeeded,  with  some  difficulty,  in  pro- 
curing a  rickety  wagon  to  convey  me  to  Fourneaux, 
about  eight  miles  distant.  It  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon, and  the  lengthening  shadows  were  rapidly 
crawling  up  the  mountain-side,  and  departing  sun- 
light was  tinging  the  snowy  summits  with  a  rich 
creamy  hue  as  we  drove  out  of  the  village  to  the 
merry  music  of  the  grelots  hung  about  the  horses' 
necks. 

I  satisfied  myself,  immediately  on  arriving  at  Four- 
neaux, that  all  the  stories  I  had  heard  about  the  great 
work  being  stopped  were  the  merest  canards;  and, 
after  partaking  of  a  better  dinner  than  I  had  supposed 
it  possible  to  obtain  in  such  an  uninviting  establish- 
ment, wearied  with  the  long  and  tiresome  journey,  I 
retired  to  rest  in  the  little  auberge  on  the  hillside  neat 
the-tunnel'a  mouth;  and  the  mountain  torrent  of  Char- 


118       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

rnaix,  which  came  tumbling  directly  beneath  my  win- 
dow, soon  lulled  me  to  sleep  with  its  rude,  monoto- 
nous music. 

The  "Mont  Cenis"  tunnel,  as  the  great  engineer- 
ing work  of  the  century  is  usually  called,  is  a  mis- 
nomer—  Mont  Cenis  being  distant  at  least  sixteen 
miles  from  the  French  entrance  at  Fourneaux,  and 
twenty  from  the  Italian  entrance  at  Bardoneche.  The 
line  of  the  tunnel  passes  beneath  three  peaks,  re- 
spectively called  the  "Col  Frejus,"  the  "Grand  Val- 
lon,"  and  the  "  Col  de  la  Roue,"  the  first  being  upon 
the  French,  and  the  latter  upon  the  Italian  slope,  and 
the  Grand  Vallon  at  nearly  an  equal  distance  between 
the  two.  Mount  Cenis  being  the  best  known  of  any 
of  the  ranges  in  this  vicinity,  will  doubtless  continue 
to  carry  off  the  honors.  In  behalf,  however,  of  modest 
merit,  which  the  poet  says  "  seeks  the  shade "  (and, 
if  this  be  true,  the  Col  Frejus  should  possess  an  im- 
mense deal  of  that  valuable  quality,  as  it  has  certainly 
sought  out  about  the  "  shadiest "  position  in  the  en- 
tire valley),  I  desire  to  put  upon  record  its  claim 
against  the  recognized  one  of  its  loftier  and  more  as- 
piring neighbor. 

Fourneaux,  I  found  a  miserable  little  village  in  a 
narrow  gorge  of  the  valley  of  the  Arc,  built  partly 
on  the  river-bank,  but  principally  upon  the  hillside. 
Many  of  the  inhabitants  are  afflicted  with  goitre,  with 


THE   MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  119 

sore  eyes,  or  idiocy.  Nature  here,  wild  and  rugged 
as  it  is,  is  grandly  beautiful.  The  Grand  Vallon,  the 
culminating  point  of  the  Col  Frejus,  beneath  whose 
summit  the  tunnel  is  to  run,  raises  its  lofty  snow-bon- 
neted head  11,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea 
into  the  sky.  By  the  side  of  it  is  Charmaix,  its  sum- 
mit now  crowned  with  a  recent  fall  of  snow,  which 
had  whitened  the  trunks  and  branches  of  the  mount- 
ain-firs growing  up  to  its  very  top.  Down  the  mount- 
ain reach  the  firs  and  the  pines,  darkly,  almost  black- 
ly green.  Mingled  with  them  are  less  hardy  trees, 
their  leaves  ruddy  with  the  hues  of  autumn,  and 
fruit-covered  barberry-bushes,  which  give  a  rich  va- 
riegated color  to  the  hillside.  All  around  are  piled 
up  the  Alps,  rising  one  above  the  other;  and  at  either 
extremity  of  vision,  looking  up  or  down  the  valley, 
it  seems  shut  in  by  these  eternal  mountains. 

Formerly  all  visitors  who  presented  themselves  at 
Fourneaux  or  Bardoneche  were  freely  admitted  to 
the  tunnel  without-  any  formality,  but,  as  the  work 
advanced,  the  danger  attending  the  entrance  of  stran- 
gers, and  the  annoyance  thereby  caused  to  the  work- 
men, rendered  it  necessary  that  some  more  strict 
rule  should  be  adopted.  At  present  permissions  arc 
granted  but  for  the  fifth  and  twentieth  of  each  month, 
and  then  only  upon  application  to  the#" Direzdmu 
Tecnica  del  traforo  delle  Alpi"  at  Turin.     I  found  no 


120       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

difficulty  in  securing  immunity  from  the  strict  appli- 
cation of  this  rule,  and  every  facility  was  afforded  me 
in  the  pursuit  of  my  investigations  by  the  local  di- 
rector, the  Chevalier  Copello. 

It  was  not  until  several  years  after  it  was  decided 
that  the  tunnel  should  be  excavated  that  the  work 
was  actually  commenced.  In  and  out  of  the  Italian 
Parliament  it  was  ridiculed  and  opposed  by  scientific 
men,  professors  and  laymen — all  sorts  of  objections 
being  made  to  its  practicability,  all  kinds  of  horrible 
possibilities  being  imagined  as  obstacles  in  its  way. 
Eock  might  be  struck  of  so  impenetrable  a  nature 
that  the  keenest- tempered  instruments  would  be  bat- 
tered and  turned  aside  without  making  upon  it  the 
slightest  impression ;  so  hard  that  charges  of  powder, 
no  matter  how  heavy,  would  be  blown  from  it  as  they 
would  from  the  mouth  of  a  cannon,  without  detach- 
ing or  even  shivering  the  surrounding  mass. 

Immense  subterranean  caverns,  and  yawning 
chasms  and  abysses  reaching  down  to  Hades  itself, 
mis;ht  be  encountered.  Large  lakes  mio-ht  be  un- 
bosomed,  and  rivers  might  come  pouring  through  fis- 
sures in  the  rock,  and  not  only  drown  all  the  work-, 
men,  but,  rushing  through  the  tunnel  on  either  side, 
overwhelm  the  valleys  of  the  Dora  and  the  Arc.  Fire 
itself  might  be  encountered,  and  the  workmen  suffo- 
cated with  poisonous  gases.     These  were  some  of  the 


THE    MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  121 

imagined  and  imaginary  difficulties  in  the  way  of  the 
commencement  and  success  of  the  enterprise.  But, 
as  the  sequel  will  show,  there  were  others  of  a  much 
more  practical,  and  therefore  formidable  nature,  to 
be  overcome.  The  usual  mode  of  making  tunnels  is 
by  sinking  vertical  shafts  or  wells  at  convenient  dis- 
tances, and  working  through  from  one  to  the  other. 
Here,  however,  that  would  have  been  utterly  imprac- 
ticable. It  was  found  that  at  a  distance  of  722  yards 
from  the  mouth,  a  well  must  have  been  1000  feet  in 
depth ;  at  3000  yards,  3593  feet ;  and  at  6333  yards, 
a  vertical  shaft  must  have  been  5400  feet  deep  —  a 
well  which,  by  the  ordinary  processes,  would  require 
nearly  forty  years  to  dig.  In  case  the  shafts  were 
made  oblique  instead  of  vertical,  they  would  have 
been  almost  as  long  as  the  tunnel  itself.  There  was 
then  but  one  way  to  open  this,  and  that  was  by  at- 
tacking it  at  the  two  ends — the  mountain  at  its  two 
opposite  bases.  But  here  arose  another  difficulty. 
How  were  laborers  to  be  supplied  with  air  at  a  dis- 
tance of  more  than  three  miles  in  the  very  bowels  of 
the  earth  ?  In  tunnelling  by  hand,  fifty  or  sixty 
J'ears  would  have  passed  away  before  the  completion 
of  the  work,  and  some  more  rapid  process  must  be  ap- 
plied. Steam,  the  ordinary  motivo  power,  requires 
fire  to  generate  it,  and  fire  feeds  upon  air.  It  was 
evidenl  thai  this  could  not  be  made  use  of,  and  that  a 

6 


122       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

new  motive  power  must  be  applied.     A  happy  com- 
bination of  circumstances  led  to  this  result. 

An  English  engineer,  named  Bartlett,  had  invented 
a  perforating  apparatus,  which  being  set  in  motion  by 
steam-power,  drove  a  drill  like  a  battering-ram  against 
the  face  of  the  rock,  in  time  making  a  hole,  deep  and 
large  enough  to  be  charged  with  powder.  Three  Ital- 
ian engineers,  Messrs.  Sommellier,  Grandis,  and  Grat- 
toni,  were  at  about  the  same  time  experimenting  upon 
compressed  air  as  a  motive  power,  with  the  immediate 
object  of  applying  it  to  the  propulsion  of  railway 
trains  up  a  steep  incline  in  the  Apennines.  It  occur- 
red to  these  gentlemen  that  could  a  combination  be 
made  of  their  motive  power  and  Bartlett's  apparatus, 
the  result  would  be  precisely  the  machine  for  boring 
a  tunnel  through  the  Alps.  The  motive  power  would 
cost  nothing,  and,  instead  of  consuming  air,  would 
supply  it  to  the  workmen.  Years  of  labor  and  of 
thought  were  expended  in  contriving,  combining,  and 
experimenting;  and  the  result  has  been  the  perfo- 
rating machine,  moved  by  common  air  compressed  to 
one-sixth  its  natural  bulk,  and  consequently,  when  set 
free,  exercising  an  expansive  force  equal  to  that  of 
six  atmospheres,  which  are  now  working  their  way 
through  the  Alps  at  the  rate  of  three  yards  a  day. 
The  work  was  commenced  by  hand  at  Bardoneche 
in  1857,  and  continued  till  1861,  when  the  perforators 


ST.  JEAN  DE  MAURIENNEe 


'<*    "7/lll^'^'l^^^ 


V" 


%' 


SKETCH  OF  SITE  OF  THE  TUNNEL. 


THE    MONT    CENTS   TUNNEL.  125 

• 

were  introduced  after  about  900  yards  had  been  ac- 
complished. It  was  not,  however,  until  1863  that  the 
perforators  were  introduced  upon  the  French  side,  the 
intermediate  time  having  been  occupied  in  erecting 
dwellings  for  the*  workmen,  machine-shops,  and  all 
the  appliances  necessary  for  such  an  immense  under- 
taking. 

The  map  on  the  opposite  page  shows  the  site  se- 
lected for  the  tunnel. 

The  Arc,  rising  in  the  Alps  near  Mont  Cenis,  pours 
down  the  valley  which  bears  its  name,  and  empties 
into  the  Isere  near  Chamouset  In  ascending  the 
narrow  valley,  it  was  found  that  near  the  hamlet  of 
Fourneaux  the  river  makes  a  bend  in  a  southerly  di- 
rection. Upon  the  other  side  of  the  Alps,  in  the  val- 
ley watered  by  the  Dora-Riparia,  the  Dora,  very  ac- 
commodatingly, also  makes  a  bend  toward  the  north 
near  Bardoneche ;  and  thus,  at  these  two  points,  the 
Dora  and  the  Arc  make  the  nearest  approach  to  each 
other  in  all  their  course.  Here,  in  these  two  secluded 
little  nooks,  they  seem  to  have  had  a  fancy  for  mak- 
ing each  other's  acquaintance,  and  each  have  made  ad- 
vances as  far  as  not  merely  propriety  but  nature  her- 
self permitted.  But  the  rugged,  frowning,  unsympa- 
thetic Alps  stood  sentinel  and  barrier  between  them, 
and,  roughly  rejecting  their  cooing  and  wooing,  turned 
them  off  again  in  differenl  directions,  each  to  pursue 


126       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

its  course  toward  the  mighty  sea.  This  barrier  skill, 
science,  enterprise,  and  determination  are  rapidly 
breaking  down;  and,  before  many  years  shall  have 
passed,  we  may  reasonably  hope  that  the  Dora  and  the 
Arc,  though  not  indeed  permitted  to  mingle  their  wa- 
ters together  in  joy,  will  be  firmly  and  forever  united 
with  bands  of  iron. 

It  was  owing  to  this  proximity  in  the  two  valleys 
at  those  points  that  Fourneaux  upon  the  French,  and 
Bardoneche  upon  the  Italian  side,  were  selected  as 
the  entrances  and  termini  of  the  great  Alpine  tunnel. 
Here  it  was  found  that  a  straight  line  between  them 
and  through  the  Alps  would  measure  only  12,220 
metres,  or  13,577  yards — about  seven  and  seven-tenths 
miles.  Fourneaux  and  Bardoneche  were  also  hap- 
pily situated  for  a  convenient  junction  with  the  rail- 
ways already  constructed,  and  the  geological  charac- 
ter of  the  mountain  itself  was  found  to  be  a  favorable 
one  for  penetration. 

The  first  visit  I  made  in  the  morning  after  my  ar- 
rival at  Fourneaux  was  to  the  air-compressing  estab- 
lishment, situated  half  a  mile  from  the  mouth  of  the 
tunnel,  and  on  the  banks  of  the  Arc.  Without  dia- 
grams, and  even  with  them,  the  reader  would  fail  fully 
to  comprehend  the  structure  and  action  of  the  power- 
ful and  delicate  machinery  here  employed.  Twenty 
iron  pipes  or  tubes,  giving  the  ensemble  the  appear- 


THE    MONT    CENTS   TUNNEL.  127 

anco  of  a  huge  organ,  stand  upright  at  a  height  of 
thirty  feet  in  the  air ;  in  these,  by  an  oscillating  mo- 
tion caused  by  the  rise  and  fall  of  water,  common  air 
is  compressed  to  one-sixth  its  natural  bulk.  This  rise 
and  fall  is  caused  by  a  series  of  pistons  working  in 
the  tubes.  As  the  piston  ascends,  it  pushes  the  water 
before  it,  and  this,  in  turn,  compresses  the  air  and 
chases  it  into  a  reservoir.  As  it  descends,  a  valve 
near  the  top  is  opened,  through  which  the  common 
air  rushes  to  supply  the  vacuum,  and  this,  in  turn,  is 
compressed  and  pushed  into  the  reservoir.  The  pis- 
tons are  worked  by  water-wheels ;  and  thus  one  force 
which  costs  nothing  is  made  to  manufacture  from  the 
surrounding  atmosphere  a  power  which  is  now  boring 
through  the  hardest  rock.  From  the  reservoir  an 
iron  pipe  eight  inches  in  diameter,  in  sections  eight 
feet  in  length,  the  joints  being  rendered  air-tight  by 
cushions  of  caoutchouc,  and  laid  upon  the  tops  of 
stone  posts,  conveys  the  compressed  air  along  the 
roadside  till  nearly  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel, 
where,  taking  a  sharp  turn,  it  follows  a  steep  incline, 
upon  which  a  double-track  railway  is  laid,  up  to  the 
entrance.  I  followed  the  course  of  the  pipe  up  this 
incline,  upon  which  the  "  kangaroo  wagons"  (so  called 
on  account  of  their  peculiar  construction,  the  two 
'front  wheels  being  made  lower  than  the  hind  ones, 
giving  the  wagon  tin'  appearance  ofa  kangaroo)  were 


128       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

mounting,  heavily  laden  with  stone  cut  for  the  ma- 
son-work of  the  tunnel.  Four  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight  steep  stone  steps  brought  me  up  on  a  large  arti- 
ficial plateau  formed  by  the  debris  brought  from  out 
the  excavation  and  shot  down  the  mountain-side. 

Nothing  seemed  so  surprising,  and  nothing  could 
be  so  likely  to  astonish  the  general  observer,  as  the 
fact  that  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel  is  at  a  distance  of 
105  metres,  or  340  feet  above  the  level  of  the  valley. 
The  reason,  however,  is  evident  enough  when  the 
facts  of  the  case  are  known.  The  two  opposite  val- 
leys of  the  Arc  and  the  Dora  differ  in  their  heights 
above  the  level  of  the  sea — the  former  being  at  an 
elevation  of  1202  metres  and  a  fraction,  while  Jhe  lat- 
ter has  an  elevation  of  1335.  A  line,  therefore,  run 
straight  from  the  base  of  the  mountain  on  the  Bar- 
doneche,  or  most  elevated  side,  would  emerge  upon 
the  Fourneaux  side  at  a  distance  of  132  metres  above 
the  valley.  This  difference  is  to  be  compensated  for, 
and  it  is  done  by  commencing  the  tunnel  on  this  side 
at  an  elevation  of  105  metres,  and  giving  a  much 
steeper  grade  from  the  north  end  to  the  centre  than 
from  the  other,  the  grade  in  the  one  case  being  0-022 
to  the  m&tre,  and  in  the  other  but  0*0005. 

Arrived  near  the  entrance  of  the  tunnel,  I  deliver- 
ed my  letter  of  introduction  to  Signore  Genesio,  the 
director  of  the  workmen,  who  invited  me   into   his 


THE   MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  129 

bureau,  where  he  called  my  attention  to  a  caoutchouc 
coat  reaching  nearly  to  the  heels,  and  which  he  re- 
commended me  to  put  on.  We  then  went  to  the 
mouth  of  the  tunnel,  where,  each  receiving  from  the 
custodian  a  lighted  lamp,  attached  to  a  wire  about 
eighteen  inches  in  length,  we  commenced  our  journey 
into  "  the  bowels  of  the  earth." 

The  entrance  does  not  materially  differ  in  appear- 
ance from  that  of  ordinary  railway  tunnels.  It  is 
here  built  up  and  faced  with  solid  masonry,  and  is  25 
feet  3^  inches  wide  at  the  base,  26  feet  2f  inches  at 
the  broadest  part,  and  24  feet  7  inches  high.  A  dou- 
ble railway  track  emerges  from  the  mouth,  and  wag- 
ons loaded  with  debris  were  coming  out,  and  others, 
filled  with  cut  stones  for  the  mason-work,  drills,  and 
other  working  utensils,  going  in.  As  we  entered,  the 
only  light  we  could  see  ahead  was  a  gas  jet  blazing 
in  the  distance.  Along  either  side  of  the  tunnel  here 
is  a  troUoir  of  flagstones,  upon  which  we  walked, 
lighting  a  path  for  our  feet  with  the  lamp  which  hung 
near  them.  The  air-conduit  is  ranged  along  the  side 
of  the  gallery,  while  in  the  middle  of  the  tunnel,  be- 
tween the  two  lines  of  rails,  a  canal  has  been  dug, 
through  which  the  gas  and  water  pipes  are  conveyed 
to  the  end  of  the  gallery.  This  canal  is  wide,  and 
deep  enough  to  afford  a  refuge  for  the  workmen,  and 

a  means  of  exit  in  case  the  tunnel  should  be  filled  by 

6* 


130       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

a  fall  of  the  crumbling  rock  above.  The  masonry  on 
either  side  was  damp,  and  in  many  places  little  streams 
came  trickling  through  it,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that 
in  time  this  constant  percolation  must  inevitably  wear 
away  the  cement  which  binds  the  blocks  of  stone  to- 
gether, and  undermine  the  vault.  Overhead  the  ma- 
sonry is  not  visible,  nothing  being  seen  but  a  wooden 
partition,  dividing  the  tunnel  into  two  equal  galleries 
above  and  below.  The  object  of  this,  which  is  only 
temporary,  is  to  create  a  current,  the  rarified  air  from 
the  lower  gallery  rising  and  rushing  out  through  the 
upper,  while  fresh  air  comes  into  the  lower  one  to 
supply  its  place.  As  yet,  this  partition  extends  only 
a  short  distance,  and  is  not  of  much  practical  value. 
We  passed  the  gas  jet,  and,  looking  before  us,  saw 
nothing  but  the  most  impenetrable  darkness;  and, 
looking  behind,  I  observed  the  entrance  gradually 
growing  smaller,  until  after  I  had  continually  turned 
and  watched  it  till  it  had  dwindled  down  to  the  ap- 
parent size  of  an  apple,  it  suddenly  dropped  out  of 
sight,  as  the  sun  sinks  below  the  horizon  in  a  calm 
summer  sea.  Peering  then  in  either  direction,  I  saw 
only  impenetrable  darkness.  I  use  the  word  "saw" 
advisedly,  for  this  darkness  here  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth  seemed  to  be  palpable  and  ponderable;  some- 
thing more  than  what  the  philosophers  define  as  a 
mere  absence  of  light ;  something  heavier  and  more 


THE    MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  131 

solid  than  a  negative — a  real  positive  entity,  which  it 
seemed  to  me  I  could  feel  pressing  against  and  around 
me  as,  guided  by  the  flaring  flame  of  our  lamps,  we 
forced  our  way  through  it.  Upon  inquiring  of  my 
guide  how  far  we  had  reached,  he  called  my  atten- 
tion to  a  little  notch  in  the  wall,  where  the  distance 
was  marked  1000  metres,  or  about  two-thirds  of  a 
mile. 

A  dull  rumbling  sound  attracted  my  attention ;  and 
in  the  distance,  but  seeming  miles  away,  lights  were 
dancing  up  and  down  in  the  murky  air  as  the  feufol- 
let,  or  wildfire,  dances  and  flits  in  summer  evenings 
over  marshes,  bogs,  and  fens.  These  were  the  lamps 
carried  by  some  workmen  going  out,  and  a  wagon 
loaded  with  debris  soon  came  rolling  by  us.  Up  to 
this  time  I  had  experienced  no  particular  difficulty  in 
breathing,  a  sensation  only  that  the  air  was  unnatural 
and  dank,  like  that  in  a  cellar.  As  we  advanced, 
however,  it  began  to  grow  hot  and  stifling,  and  we  en- 
tered a  thick  yellow  fog,  redolent  of  the  fumes  of  gun- 
powder, which  indeed  it  was,  seeking  its  way  toward 
the  mouth  of  the  tunnel.  This  was  very  disagreea- 
ble, almost  suffocating,  producing  a  sensation  of  heav- 
iness upon  the  brain,  a  dull  headache,  and  a  fearful 
feeling  of  dread.  As  we  walked  on  we  saw  lights 
again,  dancing  like  fireflies  in  the  distance,  and  soon  a- 
parly  of  rough,  half-naked,  smoke-to  'grimed  men,  who 


132        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

loomed  up  in  the  fog  like  enormous  giants  as  they  ap- 
proached, passed  us  on  their  way  from  work. 

About  two  miles  from  the  entrance  we  came  upon 
a  little  cabin,  or  barrack,  built  upon  one  side,  and  here 
my  guide  informed  me  that  the  completed  portion  of 
the  tunnel  on  the  French  slope  ended.  Entering  the 
cabin,  and  following  his  advice  and  example,  I  gladly 
removed  coat  and  vest,  covering  myself  again  with 
the  caoutchouc;  and,  picking  and  trimming  our  lamps, 
we  darted  again  into  the  darkness.  Up  to  this  time 
it  had  been  plain  sailing,  walking  along  with  as  little 
difficulty  or  obstacle  as  on  a  side-walk  in  a  deserted 
street.  Upon  quitting  this,  however,  we  entered  the 
gallery  in  corso  di  scavazione — that  portion  of  the  tun- 
nel which,  having  been  opened  by  the  perforating  ma- 
chines, was  now  being  enlarged  by  the  ordinary  hand 
process.  Here  there  was  no  longer  any  trottoir,  and 
picking  our  way  over  piles  of  rocks,  which  looked  as 
though  they  had  been  thrown  in  confusion  by  giants 
at  play,  dodging  wagons  passing  in  and  out,  passing 
groups  of  swarthy  workmen,  through  an  atmosphere 
yellow,  thick,  and  stifling,  we  at  length  came  upon  a 
group  of  men  standing  quietly,  as  if  awaiting  some- 
thing, in  front  of  a  heavy  oaken  door,  which  closed 
the  passage  in  advance  of  us.  My  guide  said  we  must 
stop  here  for  the  present.  I  imagined  the  cause,  and 
selecting  the  softest,  smoothest-looking  rock,  sat  down 


THE   MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  loc> 

and  meditated.  LTere  was  I,  more  than  two  miles 
from  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel,  with  a  mile  of  Alps 
piled  above  my  head.  The  gallery  was  not  more 
than  ten  feet  wide  and  seven  high,  and  its  roof  and 
sides  were  of  jagged,  sharp,  protruding  rocks,  seeming 
to  need  but  a  slight  shaking  to  send  them  tumbling- 
down  about  our  ears.  Suppose  they  should  tumble, 
and  we  be  all  buried  alive  in  this  hole  in  the  earth ! 
Suppose  some  of  the  predicted  rivers,  or  possible  lakes, 
should  find  their  way  through  some  aperture  just 
opened,  and  engulf  us  now!  Suppose  the  air-pipe 
should  burst,  or,  worse  still,  the  supply  of  air  be  stop- 
ped, and  we  all  suffocated !  Suppose —  But  the 
thread  of  my  rapidly-crowding  hypotheses  was  broken 
by  a  sudden  sound,  which  might  well,  under  all  the 
circumstances,  have  appalled  a  braver  and  more  firm- 
ly constituted  man,  and  which  for  an  instant  tnade 
me  believe  that  one  of  my  suppositions- was  about  to 
become  a  reality.  Bang  ! — but  not  the  sharp  crack- 
ing "  bang"  of  a  heated  cannon,  or  the  sound  of  a  rock- 
blast  in  the  open  air — a  dead,  dull,  rumbling  explo- 
sion, which  reverberated  through  the  gallery,  and  seem- 
ed to  give  the  whole  earth  a  shake.  I  started,  and  in- 
voluntarily looked  up,  as  if  expecting  to  see  the  stony 
roof  give  way  and  tumble.  Bang!  bang!  bang!  in 
rapid  succession  five  or  six  other  blasts  were  blown  ; 
the  oaken  doors  were  opened,  a  huge  gust  of  thick 


134       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

yellow  smoke  and  stifling  black  gunpowder  came  rush- 
ing toward  us,  when  my  guide  touched  me  on  the 
shoulder  and  said  we  could  now  proceed.  I  uttered 
an  inward  "  thank  God !"  that  I  was  really  safe,  and 
speedily  sprang  up  and  joined  him. 

Passing  beyond  the  heavy  oaken  doors,  still  care- 
fully picking  our  way  over  the  stones  through  the 
gallery,  growing  lower  and  narrower  at  every  step, 
through  the  smoke  we  soon  discovered  a  brilliant 
blaze  of  gas,  and  heard  a  sharp  hissing  sound.  Sud- 
denly we  emerged  from  the  heat  and  smoke,  and  were 
breathing  an  air  fresh,  sweet,  exhilarating,  and  doubly 
grateful  to  the  lungs,  after  the  deteriorated  material 
upon  which  they  had  been  feeding.  "We  were  in  the 
"  advanced  gallery  "  at  the  end  of  the  tunnel,  and  be- 
fore us  was  the  "affusto"  bearing  its  nine  perforators, 
persistently  striking  and  boring  their  way  into  the 
solid  rock,  scattering  around  them  sparks  of  fire  struck 
off  at  every  blow.  fc 

The  gallery  here  is  not  quite  nine  feet  in  width, 
and  but  eight  and  a  half  in  height.  The  affusto,  as  the 
huge  structure  is  called  upon  which  the  perforating 
machines  are  borne,  and  which  bears  precisely  the 
same  relation  to  them  that  the  carriage  does  to  the 
gun,  nearly  fills  up  the  entire  space.  In  order  to  ob- 
serve the  action  of  the  machinery,  we  were  obliged  to 
coast  carefully  along  the  side  of  this  heavy  wagon,  and 


THE    MONT   CENIS  TUNNEL.  135 

when  arrived  at  the  front,  to  wedge  ourselves  between 
it  and  the  rock,  with  just  space  enough  to  stand  in. 
Here  the  sights  and  sounds  really  became  cheerful 
and  pleasant.  The  gallery  is  brilliantly  lighted ;  the 
compressed  air,  a  jet  of  which  is  constantly  escaping 
from  the  conduit-pipe,  is  fresh,  cool,  and  grateful  to 
the  wearied  lungs;  the  constant  rapid  "thud"  of  the 
drill  as  it  strikes  the  rock,  the  hissing  sound  of  the  es- 
caj)ing  air,  the  cries  of  the  workmen  to  each  other, 
sounding  unnaturally  loud  in  this  pure  air  and  con- 
fined space,  all  constituted  a  scene  as  exciting  as  it 
was  strange.  A  feeling,  of  manly  pride  at  the  sight 
and  action  of  these  wonderful  machines,  in  the  opera- 
tion of  which  the  powers  of  nature  are  made  the  slaves 
of  man,  seems  to  invade  the  soul.  We  forget  that  we 
are  so  far  from  daylight,  and  that  four  thousand  feet 
of  Alps  are  weighing  above  our  heads.  We  forget 
danger,  and  banish  fear;  and  the  workmen,  thirty- 
nine  of  whom  are  employed  upon  each  affusto,  seem 
to  have  no  idea  of  either.  They  perform  their  labor 
in  this  little  hole  with  a  remarkable  sense  of  security. 
They  seem  to  play  with  these  huge  machines — they 
put  their  hands  upon  and  direct  the  steel  bar  which 
strikes  the  rock,  and  the  powerful  instrument  which 
pierces  the  Alps  glides  between  their  fingers  like  a 
child's  toy.  They  hop  about  like  toads  between  the 
drills,  perch  themselves  upon  and  under  the  various 


136       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

parts  of  the  monster  machine,  and  never  seem  to 
dream  that  at  any  moment  some  unknown,  unlooked- 
for  fissure  in  the  rock  may  be  discovered,  and  they 
crushed  to  atoms  by  the  tumbling  mass,  or  that  this 
powerful  agent,  which  they  have  made  their  slave, 
with  its  explosive  force  of  six  atmospheres,  may  some 
time  burst  its  iron  fetters  and  scatter  death  and  de- 
struction around  it. 

Each  perforator,  nine  of  which  are  at  work,  is  en- 
tirely independent  of  every  other,  so  that  when  one  is 
placed  hors  de  combat,  its  inability  to  act  does  not  af- 
fect the  rest.  It  is  much  easier  to  describe  the  opera- 
tion of  the  perforator  and  its  effects,  than  the  compli- 
cated machinery  by  which  it  is  set  in  motion.  The 
motive  power  is  conveyed  to  it  from  the  conduit  by  a 
flexible  pipe,  which  throws  the  compressed  air  into 
a  cylinder  placed  horizontally  along  the  affusto.  In 
this  cylinder  a  piston  works  back  and  forth,  and  to 
this  piston  is  attached  a  fleuret,  or  drill,  about  three 
feet  long,  finely  tempered  and  sharpened  at  the  end. 
As  the  piston  moves  up  and  down,  it  of  course  drives 
the  drill  against  the  rock  and  interdraws  it,  and  by  a 
very  delicate  and  complicated  piece  of  machinery,  a 
rotatory  motion  similar  to  that  in  hand  labor  is  given 
to  the  drill  itself.  We  arrived  in  the  "  advanced  gal- 
lery" at  a  very  favorable  moment,  just  as  a  new  at- 
tack was  about  being  commenced  by  a  perforator.     A 


THE    MOXT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  137 

drill  was  attached  by  a  flexible  joint  to  the  piston-rod  ; 
a  workman  standing  upon  the  front  end  of  the  ma- 
chine held  and  directed  this,  as  a  gardener  would  the 
hose  of  a  common  garden-engine  ;  the  compressed  air 
was  turned  on  by  another  workman*  at  the  hind  end 
of  the  affusto,  and  the  drill  commenced  its  rapid  and 
heavy  blows  upon  its  formidable  foe.  "Thud!" 
"  thud !"  "  thud  !"  it  goes,  at  the  rate  of  two  hundred 
times  a  minute.  Two  men  mind  this  portion  of  the 
apparatus — one  to  give  the  general  direction  of  the 
drill,  and  the  other,  standing  upon  the  ground,  holds 
the  end  where  it  strikes  the  rock  with  a  crooked  iron, 
to  prevent  it  from  flying  off  from  the  desired  point 
of  attack.  The  force  of  each  stroke  of  the  bar  is  90 
kilogrammes,  or  198  English  pounds  ;  and  as  the  pis- 
ton moves  back  and  forth,  and  consequently  causes 
the  bar  to  strike  the  rock  at  the  rate  of  from  180  to 
200  times  a  minute,  each  drill,  therefore,  exercises 
upon  the  point  of  attack  a  force  equivalent  to  89,600 
pounds  a  minute. 

The  rock  upon  which  the  perforators  were  at  work 
when  we  entered  was  hard  white  quartz,  the  most  dif- 
ficult to  pierce  which  has  yet  been  encountered.  This 
layer  was  struck  in  the  middle  of  June,  and  its  pres- 
ence has  materially  retarded  the  progress  of  the  tun- 
nel. Formerly,  in  the  mica,  hornblende,  slate,  and 
limestone   through  which  they  quarried,  the  pcrfora- 


138       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

tors  made  an  advance  of  from  one  and  a  half  to  three 
yards  a  day.  In  this  quartz  they  now  make  but  from 
eighteen  to  thirty  inches.  A  few  figures  will  exhibit 
the  rapid  and  decided  reduction  in  the  rate  of  prog- 
ress. In  May  the  advance  was  91  metres ;  in  June, 
when  the  first  croppings  of  the  quartz  began  to  ap- 
pear, it  was  reduced  to  49-| ;  in  July,  to  16 ;  in  Au- 
gust, to  13 ;  and  in  September,  to  19-|  metres.  It  is 
supposed  that  there  still  remains  a  year's  work  in  this 
quartz. 

In  commencing  a  perforation,  the  first  difficulty  is 
making  a  hole  sufficiently  large  to  confine  the  drill. 
When  this  first  strikes  the  rock  it  hits  wide  and  wild, 
like  a  pugilist  blinded  by  the  blows  of  his  adversary. 
When  once  fairly  entered,  however,  it  works  back  and 
forth,  and  rotates  with  great  precision  and  regularity, 
a  stream  of  water  being  conveyed  into  the  hole  by  a 
flexible  pipe  to  facilitate  the  boring.  The  nine  per- 
forators are  placed  above,  below,  in  the  centre,  and  on 
the  sides  of  the  affusto,  so  as  to  attack  the  rock  at  dif- 
ferent points  and  angles,  upon  a  surface  of  seven 
square  metres.  About  eighty  holes  in  the  ordinary 
rock,  from  thirty  to  forty  inches  in  depth,  and  vary- 
ing in  diameter  from  an  inch  and  a  half  to  three 
inches,  are  thus  bored  in  preparation  for  blasting.  In 
the  quartz,  however,  in  which  the  boring  is  now  in 
progress,  the  holes  are  made  but  from  seven  inches 


THE    MONT   OENIS   TUNNEL.  139 

to  a  foot  in  depth.  Eight  hours  is  usually  employed 
in  the  boring,  and  this  being  completed,  the  affusto  is 
drawn  back,  and  a  new  set  of  workmen,  the  miners, 
take  possession  of  the  gallery.  The  holes  are  charged 
with  powder  and  tamped,  the  miners  retire  behind  the 
oaken  doors,  the  slow  match  is  ignited,  an  explosion  oc- 
curs, which  sends  its  reverberating  echoes  to  the  very 
extremity  of  the  tunnel ;  the  rock  blown  out  is  clear- 
ed away,  the  affusto  is  advanced  again,  and  another  set 
of  workmen  coming  in,  the  perforators  are  set  in  mo- 
tion. And  so  this  continues  year  in  and  out,  week- 
days and  Sundays,  night  and  day.  The  thousand 
workmen  employed  upon  either  side  are  divided  into 
three  reliefs,  each  working  eight  hours  and  resting  six- 
teen. But  two  days  in  the  year,  Easter  Sunday  and 
Christmas,  are  acknowledged  holidays.  And  for  this 
constant,  difficult,  and  dangerous  subterranean  labor, 
accompanied  with  an  oppressive  heat  and  a  poisonous 
atmosphere,  with  smoke  and  grime  and  dirt,  the  com- 
mon laborers  receive  but  three  francs  a  day,  the  more 
important  and  experienced  ones  four  and  five. 

The  quartz  rock  is  terribly  destructive  to  the  drills 
and  machines,  and  the  former  are  required  to  be 
changed  every  few  minutes,  the  tempered  ends  be- 
ing battered  and  dulled  after  a  few  hundred  strokes 
against  the  rock.  In  the  comparatively  soft  material 
through  which  they  have  been  passing  there  has  been 


140       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

an  average  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  drills  and  two  per- 
forators placed  Jwrs  de  combat  for  each  metre  of  ad- 
vance ;  and  M.  Sommellier  estimates  the  number  of 
perforating  machines  which  will  succumb  in  the  at- 
tack, before  the  final  victory  is  gained,  at  no  less  than 
two  thousand. 

My  guide  and  myself  had  now  been  wedged  in  be- 
tween the  affusto  and  the  rock  for  more  than  half  an 
hour,  and  having  seen  and  heard  sufficiently,  I  pro- 
posed to  leave ;  and,  taking  our  lamps,  we  commenced 
our  "  progress  "  backward.  On  our  passage  through 
the  gallery  of  excavation,  we  were  frequently  stopped 
by  wagons  standing  on  the  rail-track,  which  were  re- 
ceiving loads  of  stone,  let  fall  into  them  through  traps 
cut  in  the  partition  previously  mentioned,  and  which 
divides  the  tunnel  into  two  galleries.  I  had  a  curi- 
osity to  mount  into  this  upper  gallery  ;  and  climbing 
a  steep  staircase  cut  in  the  rock,  we  soon  entered  it. 
Here  was  another  strange  sight :  an  immense  stone 
chamber,  with  walls  and  roof  of  jagged  stone,  through 
which  little  streams  of  water  were  percolating,  filled 
with  smoke,  through  which  the  flickering  light  of  the 
miners'  lamps  was  dulled  and  deadened,  a  hot,  fetid 
atmosphere,  and  a  hundred  black-looking  men  boring 
and  drilling  on  every  side,  the  platform  covered  with 
loose  stones,  the  debris  of  the  blast  which  we  had 
heard  on  entering,  and  from  the  effects  of  which  we 


THE   MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL.  141 

were  only  protected  by  this  oaken  wall.  "Are  not 
accidents  frequent  here  ?"  I  asked  my  guide.  "  Not 
very,"  he  replied ;  and  told  me  that  since  the  begin- 
ning of  the  work  but  about  forty  men  had  been  kill- 
ed by  premature  explosions,  falling  of  the  rock,  by 
being  crushed  under  the  wagons,  and  every  other 
form  of  accident.  The  day  after  I  visited  the  tunnel, 
upon  the  very  spot  where  I  stood  in  the  "  advanced 
gallery,"  a  premature  explosion  occurred,  caused  by 
a  spark  struck  from  the  rock  while  a  miner  was 
tamping  a  charge,  resulting  in  the  death  of  four 
men,  and  the  blinding  and  serious  maiming  of  six 
others. 

Over  and  among  the  stones,  and  down  another 
steep  ladder,  and  a  short  walk  brought  us  to  the  little 
cabin  where  wc  had  left  our  coats.  These  we  were 
glad  to  put  on  again,  as  the  air  was  already  growing 
colder.  In  the  gallery  of  excavation,  the  thermometer, 
summer  and  winter,  ranges  from  71°  to  84°  Fahr., 
and  there  is  frequently  a  difference  of  40°  in  the  tem- 
perature of  the  interior  and  exterior  of  the  tunnel. 
Over  the  trottoir  we  rapidly  retraced  our  steps  toward 
the  entrance.  This  soon  appeared  in  sight,  and  grow- 
ing larger  and  larger,  we  soon  reached  it,  and  emerged 
once  more  safe  and  sound  into  (jrod's  fresh,  pure  air, 
and  saw  before  us  and  around  us  again  the  snow- 
crowned,  fir-girdled  Alps  towering  above  the  vallej 


142       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

of  the  Arc.     We  had  been  more  than  three  hours  "  in 
the  bowels  of  the  earth." 

The  geologists  and  engineers  now  confidently  pre- 
dict, unless  some  unforeseen  obstacle  occurs,  that  the 
tunnel  will  be  opened  from  end  to  end  in  1870. 

Yet  there  are  not  a  few  old  croakers,  who  still 
believe  that  the  "  unforeseen  obstacles  "  will  yet  be 
encountered,  and  bar  the  way  of  the  perforator  and 
affusto ;  that  harder  rock  may  yet  be  struck ;  that 
the  subterranean  caverns  and  yawning  chasms  and 
abysses  may  stretch  beneath  the  very  summit  of  the 
Grand  Yallon ;  that  the  rivers  and  lakes  may  yet 
burst  forth  and  overwhelm  and  engulf  workmen,  tun- 
nel, and  the  valleys  in  which  its  either  end  debouches. 
In  reply  to  all  this,  however,  the  geologists  and  engi- 
neers calmly  assert  that  thus  far  their  "  diagnosis,"  if  I 
may  use  the  term,  of  the  character  of  the  mountain- 
chain  beneath  which  the  tunnel  runs,  has  proved  cor- 
rect, and  that  they  have  no  reason  to  believe  it  will 
not  continue  so  to  the  end. 

Let  us  hope  that  they  are  right,  and  the  croakers 
all  wrong,  and  that  within  the  time  predicted,  on  some 
fine  morning,  the  miners  upon  either  side  may  hear 
the  steady,  rapid  "thud"  of  the  drill,  as  it  strikes 
upon  the  then  only  thin  wall,  upon  the  other ;  and 
that  the  affusto  having  been  withdrawn,  and  the  mine 
fired,  when   the  smoke  of  the   explosion  shall  have 


THE   MONT   CENIS   TUNNEL. 


143 


cleared  away,  the  laborers  from  Fourneaux  and  Bar- 
doneche,  climbing  over  the  debris,  may  meet  and 
shake  their  rough  hands  together,  and  mingle  their 
rude  voices  in  a  shout  of  joy  that  their  work  is  fin- 
ished, and  that  there  arc  no  more  Alps. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  QUARTIER  LATIN. 

My  Residence  and  Mode  of  Life. — Occupations  of  Women  in  Paris. — ' 
Ladies  taking  the  Degrees  of  "  Bachelor  "  of  Arts  and  Letters. — 
A  Lady  attempting  to  obtain  a  medical  Diploma. — Quiet  Life  of 
my  Concierge. — My  Neighbor,  little  Aglae,  the  Flower-maker. 

TTTHEN  I  first  came  to  Paris  I  took  up  my  resi- 
*  *  dence  in  the  Quartier  Latin.  Dear,  charming 
old  Latin  Quarter !  Its  quaint,  narrow,  sunless  streets, 
and  queer,  dilapidated  houses,  are  rapidly-.disappear- 
ing  before  the  pick  and  shovel  of  modern  improve- 
ment. There  still  remain  within  its  classic  precincts, 
however,  those  institutions  of  learning  which  have  at- 
tained a  world-wide  reputation.  It  is  yet  the  favorite 
home  of  art,  science,  and  lore  of  every  description ; 
still  the  -abode  of  literary  and  artistic  Bohemians  and 
enthusiastic  youth ;  and,  of  all  portions  of  Paris,  the 
one  in  which  a  meditative,  pensive,  thoughtful  man 
most  delights  to  stroll.  It  is  a  free,  independent  life, 
that  of  a  single  man  in  Paris,  and  I  can  not  perhaps 
convey  a  better  idea  of  it  than  to  give  my  readers  a 
little  insight  into  my  own.  During  the  five  years  that 
I  resided  in  the  Latin  Quarter  I  lived,  in  utter  disre- 


THE   QUARTIER   LATIN.  145 

gard  of  the  opinion  of  "Mrs.  Grundy,"  in  the  third 
story  front.  The  view  from  my  window  was  delight- 
ful ;  for  I  looked  into  a  room  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  street,  full  of  good-natured,  giggling  grisettes,  who 
plied  their  needles  all  day  as  busy  as  bees.  Below 
them  was  a  carpenter's  shop,  from  which  issued  early 
in  the  morning,  breaking  upon  my  matutinal  slum- 
bers, the  soft,  delicious  music  of  a  saw  and  hammer, 
assisted  by  a  parrot,  who  had  learned  to  imitate  the 
sawing  and  hammering  wonderfully.  My  room  con- 
tained a  large  cabinet  de  toilette,  in  which  I  took  my 
bath.  The  bed  stood  in  an  alcove  which  might  be 
shut  off  by  curtains.  The  room  was  furnished  with 
a  sofa,  four  chairs,  a  secretary,  centre-table,  side-table, 
book-case,  and  clock — one  of  those  wonderful  French 
clocks  which  never  go :  there  was  no  carpet,  but,  in 
lieu  of  that,  a  clean  floor  of  oak,  which  the  garcon 
danced  or  skated  over  once  a  week,  with  a  pair  of 
waxed  brushes  attached  to  his  feet.  For  all  this  lux- 
ury I  paid  fifty  francs  a  month  rent,  and  five  francs 
service  to  the  garcon  who  made  up  my  room. 

For  be  it  known  that,  in  most  of  the  maisons  meu- 
blees  and  small  hotels  in  Paris,  the  chamberwork  is 
done  by  men  instead  of  women.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
great  many  more  avenues  are  open  here  to  female  en- 
terprise, skill,  talent,  and  industry  than  in  England  or 
tin-  T "ni t'-cl  States.     Tn  Paris,  women  engage  in  occu- 


146       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN  EUROPE. 

pations  which  would  be  considered  decidedly  "  out  of 
their  sphere  "  in  either  of  the  above-named  countries. 
In  the  retail  shops,  the  larger  portion  of  the  attendants 
are  girls,  and  in  most  of  them  a  woman  is  the  book- 
keeper. Women  are  employed,  indeed,  as  book-keep- 
ers in  some  of  the  large  wholesale  establishments,  and 
are  said  to  make  excellent  accountants.  In  all  the 
cafes  and  restaurants  women  are  engaged  as  general 
supervisors  and  to  keep  the  books ;  in  nearly  all  the 
butchers',  grocers',  and  bakers'  shops  the  wife  of  the 
proprietor  keeps  the  accounts  and  receives  the  moneys. 
In  many,  if  not  the  majority  of  the  theatres,  the  ticket- 
offices  are  kept  by  women,  as  are  they  also  at  many 
of  the  railway  stations.  In  the  country,  women  work 
in  the  fields  and  drive  carts,  and  sow  and  hoe  and 
reap.  In  Paris,  cases  of  ladies  following  the  courses 
of  lectures  at  the  Sorbonne  or  the  College  de  France, 
and  obtaining  their  degrees  as  "Bachelors"  of  Arts 
and  Sciences  and  Letters,  are  by  no  means  uncommon. 
A  young  lady  named  Reugger,  a  native  of  Algeria, 
who,  having  received  a  diploma  as  "  Bachelor  of  Let- 
ters," after  passing  a  brilliant  examination,  applied 
some  time  ago  to  the  Dean  of  the  Faculty  of  Medi- 
cine at  Montpellier  for  permission  to  pursue  the  regu- 
lar medical  course.  This  was  refused  on  account  of 
her  sex,  and  she  then  appealed  to  the  Minister  of 
Public  Instruction,  who,  without  committing  himself 


THE   QUARTIER   LATIN.  147 

regarding  the  general  principle,  proposed  as  a  com- 
promise that  the  applicant  should  agree  to  confine  her 
practice  to  Algeria,  among  the  female  Arabs,  who,  it 
seems,  more  sensitive  than  the  dames  of  more  culti- 
vated societies,  decidedly  object  to  the  manipulations 
of  male  physicians.  The  young  lady  refused  to  com- 
promise, and  threw  herself  on  her  "  reserved  rights." 
The  case  was  referred  directly  to  the  Emperor  for  his 
adjudication,  and  the  friends  of  the  young  lady,  and 
of  woman's  rights  in  general,  insist  that  the  monarch 
who  made  Kosa  Bonheur  a  "chevalier"  can  not  deny 
Mademoiselle  Eeugger  the  privilege  of  becoming  a 
physician. 

But  to  return  to  my  life  in  the  Latin  Quarter.  At 
lit  o'clock  Frangois  brought  me  a  bowl  of  delicious 
coffee  and  a  single  roll ;  and  this  first  breakfast  I  ate 
as  Parisians  do,  in  bed.  Then,  in  dressing-gown  and 
slippers,  I  read  or  wrote  till  nearly  noon,  when  I  went 
to  breakfast:  a  good  substantial  one,  consisting  of  two 
or  three  courses — beefsteak,  fish,  chops,  bread,  vegeta- 
bles, and  half  a  bottle  of  red  wine ;  then  to  a  reading- 
room,  where  for  three  francs  a  month  one  has  the 
privilege  of  seeing  all  the  Parisian,  and  most  of  the 
provincial  journals ;  then  crossing  the  garden  of  the 
Tuileries,  I  strolled  on  the  Boulevards  or  Champs 
Elysees  till  dinner,  which  came  at  six.  In  the  even- 
ing,  friends,  the  theatre,  concert,  or  lecture.     At,  elev- 


148       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

en  I  usually  went  home.  My  door  was  fastened,  bu.t 
upon  ringing  a  bell  it  flew  open  as  if  by  magic.  What 
a  quiet,  peaceful  life  must  have  been  that  of  my 
concierge  and  gargon,  Francois !  He  slept  in  a  little 
box  at  the  end  of  the  entrance,  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case, and  from  ten  o'clock  at  night,  when  the  door 
was  shut,  till  six  in  the  morning,  when  it  was  opened, 
he  was  obliged  to  respond  to  every  ring  of  the  bell 
by  pulling  a  cord  at  his  bedside,  which  opened  the 
door  and  admitted  the  lodger.  As  the  young  men 
who  reside  in  the  Quartier  Latin  are  not  generally  ad- 
dicted to  early  hours,  their  incomings,  strewed  along 
the  whole  night,  must,  I  should  suppose,  have  seri- 
ously interfered  with  the  dreams  of  Francois.  It  is 
to  be  hoped  that,  having  become  accustomed  to  it,  he 
pulled  the  cord  mechanically,  without  even  waking. 
At  all  events,  he  looked  rosy  and  jolly,  and  saluted 
me  every  morning  in  his  Auvergnat  patois,  which 
bears  about  the  same  relation  to  French  that  the  dia- 
lect of  the  Cornish  miners  does  to  the  language  of 
Macaulay  or  Byron. 

In  these  Parisian  lodging-houses  one  is  entirely 
independent  of  his  neighbor,  and  one  may  live  for 
years  in  a  house  without  knowing  tne  occupant  of  the 
next  room.  On  the  floor  below  me  lived  a  young 
student  and  the  cheerer  of  his,  otherwise,  solitary  lot, 
a  young  person  rejoicing  in  a  very  flaming  bonnet 


THE    QUARTIER    LATIN.  149 

and  yellow  ribbons,  whom  I  had  occasionally  seen 
indulging  in  what  I  should  conceive  a  highly  un- 
feminine  st}<  le  of  Terpsichorean  gymnastics,  at  the 
Gloserie  de  Lilas.  She  and  the  student  were  evident- 
ly married,  as  they  say  in  Paris,  "in  the  Twenty- 
first  Arrondissement."  And  yet  my  neighbor  with 
the  glaring  hat  and  yellow  ribbons,  and  her  student- 
lover,  with  his  seedy  coat  and  unkempt  hair,  seemed 
quite  as  happy  as  a  great  many  couples  I  have  met 
in  life  whose  unions  were  duly  blessed  by  "  book  and 
candle." 

In  the  back  room,  opposite  mine,  lived  a  little 
fl«wer-maker,  Aglae',  and  her  mother.  The  pretty 
patient  little  creature  plied  her  busy  fingers  from  day- 
light in  the  morning  often  till  the  night  was  far  spent; 
for  with  the  two  or  three  francs  a  day  which  she  earn- 
ed, she  found  it  difficult  to  support  herself  and  her 
poor  mother,  who  was  confined  to  her  bed  half  the 
time  with  rheumatism.  One  day,  shortly  after  I  first 
moved  into  the  house,  I  heard  a  tap  at  my  door,  and, 
opening  it,  found  this  pretty  little  girl  standing  there. 
She  had  heard  that  I  was  an  itranger,  and  Francois, 
who  never  could  get  it  out  of  his  stupid  head  that  all 
etrangers  came  to  Paris  to  study  medicine,  had  told 
her  that  I  was  a  doctor,  and  she  wanted  me  to  come 
in  and  see  her  mother,  who  was  laid  up  with  one  of 
her  rheumatic  attacks.     T  undeceived  her  as  to  mv 


L50        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

profession,  but,  finding  her  mother  was  really  very  ill, 
sent  for  a  medical  friend,  whose  treatment  greatly  re- 
lieved .her.  After  that  little  Aglae  and  I  became 
great  friends,  and  many  a  long  winter  evening  I  sat 
in  their  humble,  ill-furnished  room,  reading  to  and 
talking  with  them,  while  little  Aglae  worked  away  at 
her  roses  and  lilies.  Her  "young  man,"  the  grain- 
seller's  son  in  the  next  building,  who  took  her  to  the 
gallery  of  the  Porte  St.  Martin  or  the  parterre  of  the 
Bobino  on  Sunday  evenings,  told  Aglae"  that  she 
must  not  be  so  agreeable  to  the  etranger  ;  but  this  did 
not  prevent  her,  when  I  was  ill  for  a  week,  from 
bringing  her  work  into  my  room,  and  chirping  away 
in  her  cheerful  manner  as  blithely  as  a  bird.  •  Then  it 
was  all  arranged  that  when  I  received  the  hundred 
thousand  francs,  which  was  the  first  prize  in  the 
Montenegrine  lottery,  in  which  there  were  several  mil- 
lions of  tickets,  of  which  I  possessed  four,  costing  five 
sous  each,  Aglae  was  to  have  a  dot  of  I  won't  say  how 
many  francs,  and  was  to  marry  the  grain -seller's  son, 
and  I  was  to  be  one  of  the  groomsmen,  and  the  old 
lady  was  to  live  with  them,  and  a  plate  was  to  be  set 
for  me  every  Sunday,  and  the  grain-seller's  son  was 
to  have  a  shop  of  his  own,  and  we  were  all  to  be  as 
happy  as  possible. 

Dreams — dreams — !     We  saved  her  delicate  little 
body  from  the  horrors  of  the  fosse  commune  ;  and  now 


THE   QUARTIER   LATIN.  151 

when  I  stray  into  the  cemetery  of  Mont  Parnasse,  my 
feet  involuntarily  lead  me  to  a  little  green  grave  fra- 
grant with  springing  violets.  Upon  the  headstone 
three  wreaths  of  immortelles  are  hanging,  and  beneath 
them  is  chiselled  the  name  of  "  Aglae." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHAT  THE  PARISIANS  EAT. 

Snail-eating. — History  and  Habits  of  the  Snail. — Cost  of  living  in 
Paris.— Cheap  Restaurants. —  Horse-eating.— Bill  of  Fare  of  a 
Horse-dinner.— Tables  d'hote.— First-class  Restaurants.— Cre- 
meries.— "  Etablissements  de  Bouillon."— How  the  Parisian  Poor 
furnish  their  Tables. 

THE  people  of  Paris,  although  many  of  them  are 
obliged  to  live  in  an  exceedingly  frugal  manner, 
in  the  aggregate  eat  a  great  deal.  They  consume  an- 
nually about  seventy  million  pounds  of  meat,  two  mil- 
lions of  dollars'  worth  of  sea-fish,  five  millions  of  dol- 
lars' worth  of  poultry  and  game,  ten  million  eggs,  and 
an  incalculable  quantity  of  vegetables  and  snails. 
Yes,  snails !  those  slimy  molluscs,  which  thrive  in 
damp  gardens  and  vineyards  and  love  the  mould  and 
moss  which  gathers  on  stone  walls  and  "  around  dead 
men's  graves."  These  may  be  seen  in  the  windows 
of  the  cheaper  eating-houses  in  Paris,  where  they  are 
exposed  as  a  tempting  bait,  and  they  may  also  be 
procured  at  some  of  the  first-class  restaurants.  The 
man  who  first  dared  to  eat  an  oyster  was,  no  doubt,  a 
hero  deserving  immortality;  but  what  extraordinary 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS    EAT.  153 

courage  must  he  have  had  who  made  the  first  essay 
upon  these  slippery  gasteropods,  now  so  much  esteem- 
ed in  the  cuisine  of  the  "  most  refined  nation  of  the 
world!"  Who  he  was,  or  where  he  made  the  heroic 
"gulp"  which  gave  a  new  sensation  to  his  palate,  we 
shall  probably  never  know,  for  snail-eating  dates  from 
a  remote  period.  Pliny,  indeed,  mentions  one  Fulvius 
Hirpinus,  who  cultivated  the  snail,  as  well  as  a  taste 
for  him,  and  who  constructed  a  grand  snailery,  in 
which  he  fattened  his  pets  with  boiled  barley,  and 
served  them  wine  to  drink  spiced  with  aromatic 
herbs.  In  the  time  of  Pliny,  snails,  imported  from 
abroad,  were  a  popular  article  of  food  in  Eome ;  those 
coming  from  Sicily,  the  Balearic  Isles,  and  Capri  be- 
ing esteemed  as  highly  as  in  these  degenerate  days 
are  "Chicaroras,"  "Blue  Points,"  "Princess  Bays," 
and  "East  Rivers." 

During  many  centuries  the  fattening  of  snails  for 
the  table  has  been  a  profitable  business  on  the  Conti- 
nent, the  monasteries  and  convents  having  almost  the 
entire  monopoly  of  this  commerce.  Addison  has  re- 
lated his  visit  to  the  snailery  of  the  Capuchin  con- 
vents of  Ulm  and  Fribourg,  where  the  delicate  crea- 
tures were  kept  in  shady  court-yards,  and  furnished 
with  mossy  stones  to  lounge  upon,  and  favorite  plants 
on  which  to  feed,  while  above  the  walls  and  around 
them  a  not  was  stretched  to  prevent  the  lively  animals 

7* 


154       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

from  too  freely  indulging  their  vagabond  propensities 
and  straying  away  from  home. 

The  snails  consumed  in  Prance  come  mostly  from 
the  ancient  provinces  of  Burgundy,  Champagne,  and 
the  Franche  Comte,  where  they  are  gathered  from  the 
grape-vines,  of  the  leaves  of  which  they  are  particu- 
larly fond.  The  original  producers  sell  them  in  the 
Paris  market  for  about  twelve  sous  a  hundred,  and 
the  marketmen  retail  them  at  from  one  to  two  francs, 
according  to  size.  After  boiling  in  the  shell,  which 
is  then  stopped  up  with  a  batter  made  of  butter,  eggs, 
herbs,  and  pepper,  the  animal  is  drawn  out  and  eaten, 
batter  and  all.  I  tried  a  dozen  one  day.  Abstractly 
speaking,  they  are  not  bad,  but  upon  my  uncultivated 
taste  a  flavor  intruded  itself  which  seemed  a  cross  be- 
tween that  of  a  clam  and  a  cockroach. 

The  snail  of  "Burgundy,  in  learned  parlance  the 
" Helix  pomatia"  or  the  "Burgundy  oyster"  of  the 
vernacular,  is  the  largest  and  finest,  being  about  two 
inches  in  length,  and  very  fat  and  succulent.  This 
snail  is  common  in  the  north  and  centre  of  France, 
where  it  is  found  upon  the  vines,  in  the  woods,  and  on 
the  hedges.  It  does  not  exist  at  all  in  the  south  of 
France,  although  among  the  Eoman  ruins  of  Provence 
its  shell  is  often  met  with,  from  which  it  is  inferred  that 
the  luxurious  Eomans  introduced  it  there  for  their 
own  use.     The  Helix  jpomatia  is  considered  the  hardi- 


WHAT    THE    PARISIANS    EAT.  155 

est,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  palatable  and 
profitable  of  the  snail  family,  though  there  are  several 
other  species,  which  are  more  or  less  prized  by  gas- 
tronomers. In  the  south  of  France  is  found  the  Helix 
aspersa,  a  spotted  variety,  being  the  common  garden 
snail;  the  Helix  nemorosa,  the  wood  snail,  very  com- 
mon in  Languedoc ;  the  Helix  lactea,  the  white  snail, 
and  the  Helix  verrniculata,  commonly  known  in  Prov- 
ence as  the  mourgette,  or  "little  nun,"  a  title  given  it 
on  account  of  its  retiring  habits.  At  Marseilles,  the 
Helix  2^>isana,  or  Pisa  snail,  is  very  much  esteemed. 
It  is  a  pretty  little  snail,  with  a  bright  yellow  shell, 
over  which  brown  bands  are  drawn.  This  is  the  snail 
for  the  amateur  to  commence  with ;  it  has  a  much  less 
formidable  appearance  than  the  big  pomatia,  the  oys- 
ter of  Burgundy. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  snails  are  gathered 
at  hazard,  and  cooked  and  eaten  without  undergoing 
careful  inspection.  The  police  authorities  of  Paris — 
who  protect  the  stomachs  of  the  citizens  from  the  de- 
bilitating effects  of  watered  milk  and  wine,  who  are 
sufficiently  familiar  with  comparative  anatomy  to  be 
able  to  distinguish  readily  between  a  rabbit  and  a  cat, 
even  though  the  latter  may  be  enveloped  in  the  skin 
of  the  former — the  efficient  police — who  keep  a  sharp 
look-out  for  calves  and  cattle  that  never  gave  up  the 
trhost  "in  the  regular  way;"  who  know  at  a  glance 


156       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

the  difference  between  mushrooms  and  toadstools — 
the  police  authorities  do  not  permit  the  members  of 
the  great  snail  family  to  pass  the  city  gates  of  Paris 
without  a  passport  certifying  to  the  locality  in  which 
they  waxed  fat.  It  is  well  known  that  the  snail  has 
a  great  predilection  for  poisonous  plants,  and  botanical 
gardeners  have  much  trouble  in  preserving  from  his 
voracity  the  belladonnas,  the  lobelias,  the  mandrago- 
ras,  and  the  tobaccos,  of  all  of  which  he  is  particular- 
ly fond.  Prudence,  then,  would  suggest,  that  one  in- 
clined to  eat  should  first  inquire  respecting  the  early 
youth,  and  riper  age,  and  dietetic  habits  of  his  in- 
tended victim.  The  snail  should  never  be  swallowed 
until  he  has  been  submitted  to  a  few  days'  fast,  or 
during  the  winter,  when  he  is  in  a  torpid  condition, 
and  when  he  does  not  eat  at  all. 

At  the  approach  of  winter  the  snail  seeks  the  holes 
and  chinks  of  old  walls,  and,  with  the  view  of  still 
better  protecting  himself  against  currents  of  cold  air, 
he  closes  the  opening  of  his  shell  with  a  window 
formed  of  mucus,  which,  drying  and  hardening  by 
exposure,  affords  him  a  perfect  protection ;  retiring 
then  into  his  house,  which  for  convenience'  sake  he 
always  carries  upon  his  back,  the  snail  lies  patiently, 
dozing  and  dreaming,  in  his  hole  in  the  wall,  till  the 
warm  sunshine  and  melting  air  tempt  him  out  again, 
to  browse  upon  the  springing  leaves. 


WHAT   THE    PARISIANS    EAT.  157 

One  can  live  in  Paris  in  all  sorts  of  styles,  and  at 
all  sorts  of  prices ;  and  one  of  the  great  pleasures  of 
life  in  the  French  capital  is  the  perfectly  independent 
manner  in  which  one  can  lodge  and  eat,  without  fear 
of  "  Mrs.  Grundy."  A  large  portion  of  the  people 
take  their  meals  at  restaurants,  breakfasting  from 
nine  to  twelve,  and  dining  usually  from  five  to  eight. 
Families  who  have  their  own  apartments  avoid  the 
trouble  and  care  of  cooking  by  eating  abroad. 

There  are  two  principal  classes  of  restaurants: — 
those  which  furnish  meals  at  a  fixed  price,  and  those 
where  one  may  breakfast  and  dine  a  la  carte.  All 
the  best  and  most  fashionable  places  are  in  the  latter 
category,  and  the  charges  at  some  of  them  are  very 
exorbitant.  But  there  are  cheap  places,  and  plenty 
of  them  ;  and  as  a  fair  sample  of  the  cheapest  class  of 
eating-houses,  which  are  at  all  decent,  where  meals 
are  furnished  at  a  fixed  price,  I  give  below  a  trans- 
lation of  a  little  bill,  thrust  into  the  hands  of  pedes- 
trians upon  all  the  bridges  of  Paris,  and  which  is  the 
advertisement  of  a  restaurant,  a  large  number  of 
which  exist  here,  patronized  mostly  by  students, 
workmen,  grisettes,  literary  Bohemians,  and  other  poor 
fellows  whose  purses  do  not  always  correspond  either 
with  their  taste  or  appetite.     La  voila! 

Breakfast  at  14  sous :  A  soup — a  plate  of  meat — a 
plate  of  fish  or  vegetables — a  dessert — a  quarter  bot- 


158        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

tie  of  wine,  and  bread  "  at  discretion."  For  sixteen 
sous  one  may  have  a  half-bottle  of  wine,  or  a  bottle  of 
beer. 

Dinner  at  16  sous :  A  soup — a  plate  of  meat  with 
vegetables — a  plate  of  vegetables — a  dessert — a  quar- 
ter-bottle of  wine,  and  bread  "at  discretion."  For  two 
sous  more,  one  may  have  two  plates  of  meat. 

Dinner  at  21  sous:  A  soup — two  plates  " at  choice" 
— half  a  bottle  of  wine  or  a  bottle  of  beer— a  dessert, 
and  bread  at  discretion. 

Dinner  at  25  sous:  A  soup — three  plates  "  at  choice" 
— half  a  bottle  of  wine — a  dessert,  and  bread  "  at  dis- 
cretion." 

So — with  the  two  sous  which  the  waiter  always  ex- 
pects to  be  left  at  the  side  of  the  plate,  and  which  at 
all  the  restaurants  is  placed  by  the  waiters  in  a  com- 
mon receptacle  and  divided  at  night — one  can  break- 
fast, after  a  fashion,  at  sixteen  sous,  and  dine  for  eight- 
een. A  very  hungry  man  might  fail  to  satisfy  the 
cravings  of  his  "  inner  nature  "  at  one  of  these  meals, 
as  the  portions  are  rather  diminutive  (sometimes,  too, 
I  suspect,  like  Eogers's  wine,  "  very  little  for  their 
age  ") ;  and  a  connoisseur  in  wines  would  certainly  not 
visit  one  of  these  establishments  more  than  once. 

In  the  course  of  the  punishment  to  which  I  sub- 
mitted my  stomach,  while  experimenting  at  the  vari- 
ous Parisian  restaurants,  I  witnessed  at  one  of  these 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS   EAT.  159 

places,  while  breakfasting  one  morning,  a  little  speci- 
men of  the  economical  habits  of  the  French  people, 
which,  however  creditable  to  them,  would  certainly, 
had  no  other  cause  for  the  adoption  of  such  a  rule 
existed,  have  led  me  to  withdraw  my  patronage,  final- 
ly and  forever,  from  that  establishment.  -I  had  been 
indulging  in  an  exceedingly  nutritious,  palatable,  and 
favorite  dish  of  mine,  called  "  tete  de  veau  a  Thuile" 
and,  with  my  extravagant  notions,  had  made  the  sad 
remains  of  that  unfortunate  calf's  intelligence  liter- 
ally swim  in  a  lake  of  oil  and  vinegar.  The  meat 
soon  disappeared  under  the  sharpening  influence  of 
an  excellent  appetite,  but  a  large  portion  of  the  unc- 
tuous compound  in  which  it  had  been  seasoned  I  left 
upon  the  plate,  and  ordered  the  second  dish  to  which 
I  was  entitled.  The  waiter  looked  at  the  ocean  of  oil 
and  vinegar  in  which  the  calf's  head  had  been  im- 
mersed, and  then  he  looked  at  me  with  a  mixture  of 
wonder,  scorn,  and  an  expression  which  seemed  to 
say,  "  Not  much  made  off  that  dish  of  tete  de  veau  a 
Thuih"  Then  he  called  another  waiter,  and  they 
both  looked  at  the  dish,  and  then  both  looked  at  me ; 
and  then  the  first  waiter  said  something  to  the  second 
waiter  soito  voce,  and  handed  him  the  plate,  with 
which — holding  it  very  carefully,  so  that  not  a  drop 
of  it  should  be  spilled,  and  giving  me  a  withering 
1  M>k  in   his  transit — he  started  for  the  kitchen.     I 


160        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

knew,  at  first  thought,  the  fate  of  that  greasy  com- 
pound ;  it  was  not  thrown  away ;  that  would  not  have 
accorded  with  the  French  idea  of  "  economy,"  and 
particularly  with  the  economy  of  cheap  restaurant 
keeping.  It  was,  of  course,  mixed  into  some  other 
mess  in  the  kitchen,  and  I  should  not  hesitate  to  af- 
firm my  belief,  which  no  amount  of  persecution 
would  force  me  to  relinquish,  that  other  individuals, 
beside  the  calf  and  myself,  had  a  taste  of  its  quality. 
I  sincerely  trust  that  the  guest  who  was  fortunate 
enough  to  get  it  appreciated  my  masterly  method  of 
making  sauce  piquante  for  tete  de  veau  a  Thuile.  There 
are  those  who  insinuate  that,  at  these  cheap  restau- 
rants, horse  and  cat  are  served  up  under  the  name 
and  guise  of  beef  and  rabbit,  but  of  this  I  do  not  be- 
lieve a  word- 

The  flesh  of  horses,  however,  is  eaten  in  France, 
and  is  sold  in  the  shambles,  like  other  meat,  in  every 
arrondissement  of  Paris,  where  horses,  killed  on  account 
of  incurable  wounds,  or  any  other  cause  which  would 
not  disease  the  flesh,  are  cut  up  and  sold.  The  late 
distinguished  savant,  Isidore  Geoffrey  St.  Hilaire,  was 
an  enthusiastic  supporter  of  the  "  hippogastric  "  the- 
ory and  practice.  He  contended  that  it  was  only  an 
"  absurd  prejudice  "  which  prevented  people  from  eat- 
ing horse-flesh,  and  that  it  was  quite  as  palatable  and 
nutritious  as  beef.     Some  years  since  M.  St.  Hilaire 


WHAT   THE    PARISIANS    EAT.  161 

gave  a  dinner  to  a  number  of  his  brother  savants,  at 
which  horse,  in  all  possible  styles  of  cooking,  was 
served  up ;  last  year  a  grand  hippophagic  banquet 
was  given  at  the  Grand  Hotel  in  Paris,  under  the  aus- 
pices of  the  society  for  the  protection  of  animals. 
An  ill-natured  anti-hippophage  might  be  inclined  to 
suggest  that  it  was  a  droll  way  of  "  protecting  "  an 
animal  to  eat  him  ;  but  this  is  exactly  what  the  so- 
ciety did  on  this  occasion.  There  was  horse  soup, 
boiled  horse,  filet  cle  horse,  roast  horse,  hashed  horse, 
and,  finally,  horse  liver  with  truffles,  of  all  of  which 
the  company  partook,  and  pronounced  it  excellent. 
The  tickets  for  this  dinner  were  sold  at  fifteen  francs, 
which  is  just  fourteen  francs  and  a  half  more  than  an 
unconscious  dinner  of  horse-meat  would  cost  in  one 
of  the  cheap  restaurants  of  the  Qvartier  Mouffetard, 
and  yet  there  were  present  no  less  than  one  hundred 
and  twenty  persons,  representing  the  learned  profes- 
sions, and  nearly  every  rank  in  life. 

After  the  guests  had  partaken  of  the  beast,  the  di- 
rector of  the  veterinary  school  at  Alfort,  under  whose 
direction  the  banquet  was  provided,  informed  them 
that  the  animals,  of  which  they  had  been  tasting  the 
quality,  were  not  young,  fat,  and  fresh  horses,  but  old, 
excessively  lean,  and  worn  out  with  labor.  The  ani- 
mals killed  for  the  feast  were  respectively  thirteen, 
seventeen,  and  twenty-three  years  of  age. 


162       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

The  bill  of  fare  of  a  horse  dinner  is  a  novelty. 
Here  is  that  of  the  one  referred  to : 

Potage. 

Vermicelli  aix  consomme  de  cheval. 
Hors  d'ceuvre  de  table  vane's. 

Releves. 
Saumon,  sauce  Hollandaise. 
Cotlette  de  cheval  boulli,  ganiie  de  choux. 
Cheval,  en  boeuf  a  la  mode. 

Entrees. 
Hachis  de  cheval,  a  la  Menagere. 
Poularde,  sauce  supreme. 

Rotis. 

Filet  de  cheval  bigarre,  sauce  Xeres. 
Pate  de  foie  de  cheval  aux  truffes. 

It  is  not,  of  course,  the  desire  of  the  hippophagists 
(who  number  in  their  ranks  some  of  the  most  learned 
men  in  France)  to  substitute  horse-flesh  for  that  of 
cattle,  but  simply  to  overcome  the  "  absurd  preju- 
dice," so  that  horses  killed  in  battle,  or  by  accident, 
or  which  are  killed  by  their  owners  when  they  be- 
come useless  on  account  of  broken  limbs,  or  from  oth- 
er causes  not  affecting  their  general  health,  can  be 
made  of  use.  In  spite,  however,  of  the  labors  of  the 
savants,  it  will  probably  be  a  long  time  before  the  "  ab- 
surd prejudice  "  against  horse-eating,  and  which,  sin- 
gularly enough,  extends  to  cats,  dogs,  rats,  and  other 
"  small  deer,"  will  be  overcome. 


WHAT   THE    PARISIANS    EAT.  163 

• 

In  the  Palais  Eoyal,  and  scattered  all  over  Paris, 
are  restaurants  at  a  fixed  price,  where  a  breakfast, 
consisting  of  two  dishes  and  a  dessert,  half  a  bottle  of 
wine  or  a  cup  of  coffee,  may  be  had  for  twenty-five 
sous,  and  a  dinner  composed  of  a  half-bottle  of  wine, 
soup,  three  dishes  selected  from  the  bill  of  fare,  and  a 
dessert,  for  two  francs.  Besides  these  are'  many  tol- 
erably cheap  restaurants  a  la  carte,  where  a  good  din- 
ner may  be  made  at  from  two  to  five  francs.  As  a 
rule,  any  one  living  in  Paris,  and  desiring  to  practice 
economy,  should  dine  either  at  a  restaurant  at  a  "  fixed 
price,"  or  at  a  "  (able  d'hote." 

All  the  first -class,  and  most  of  the  ordinary  ho- 
tels, furnish  a  table  d'hote  dinner,  at  which  other  than 
guests  of  the  house  may  dine.  From  that  of  the 
"  Grand  Hotel,"  served  in  the  most  gorgeous  public 
dining-room  in  the  world,  down  to  the  dinner  set  be- 
fore poor  students  at  twenty-one  sous  in  the  Latin 
Quarter,  there  is,  as  in  restaurants,  a  wide  range,  offer- 
ing a  great  variety  of  price  as  well  as  fare.  At  the 
"  Grand  Hotel  "  the  price  of  dinner,  including  vin  or- 
dinaire, is  eight  francs;  at  the  Hotel  du  Louvre  it  is 
seven  ;  at  Meurice's,  six,  exclusive  of  wine;  and  at 
the  hotels  a  grade  below  these,  the  price  is  usual- 
ly five  francs,  with  wine.  Then  there  are  many 
excellent  dinners  served  at  four,  three,  and  two 
francs  and   a   half,  at  the  smaller  hotels,  and   oven 


164       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

for  two  francs,  with  the  usual  fee  of  two  sous  to  the 
waiter. 

Of  the  first-class  restaurants  in  Paris,  at  which  meals 
are  served  a  la  carte;  and  where  the  prices  are  high, 
there  are  some  which  have  acquired  a  world-wide  rep- 
utation for  the  excellence  of  their  cuisine  and  the  su- 
periority of  their  wines.  Among  these  are  the  Maison 
Doree,  the  Cafe  Riche,  and  the  Cafe  Anglais,  Philippes, 
and  Vefours.  At  these  places,  where  every  thing  is 
served  in  the  most  elegant  manner,  a  dinner  for  a  sin- 
gle person,  such  as  a  man  of  taste  and  appetite  would 
select,  costs  from  ten  to  thirty  francs.  In  addition  to 
the  bill,  it  is  customary  to  give  the  waiters  a  pour 
boire,  at  the  rate  of  a  sou  upon  each  franc  spent.  In 
the  Parisian  cafes  and  restaurants  the  waiters  are  not 
paid  by  the  proprietor,  and,  indeed,  in  many  cases, 
they  purchase  from  him  the  privilege  of  serving  in 
his  establishment,  depending  entirely  upon  the  cus- 
tomer for  their  reward. 

Besides  all  these,  there  is  another  class  of  eating- 
houses,  which  abound  in  the  Latin  Quarter,  and  which 
are  extensively  patronized  by  students,  artists,  and 
literary  Bohemians,  on  account  of  their  cheapness. 
These  are  little  places  called  "  cremeries"  where  a 
big  bowl  of  coffee,  or  chocolate,  or  boiled  milk,  or 
milk  boiled  with  rice,  is  served  for  four  sous,  with 
rolls  at  a  sou  each,  and  a  little  pat  of  fresh  butter  for 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS   EAT.  165 

another  sou.  A  beefsteak  may  be  had  for  eight,  and  a 
mutton-chop  for  six  sous  more,  and  a  couple  of  eggs  for 
five ;  so  that  at  a  cremerie  a  very  decent  breakfast  may 
be  made  for  fourteen  or  fifteen  sous,  and  at  many  of 
these  places  a  moderate  dinner  may  be  had  for  a  franc. 
Within  a  few  years  a  new  class  of  eating  estab- 
lishments, which  are  patronized  by  all  classes,  has 
sprung  up  in  Paris.  These  are  the  etablissements  de 
bouillon  —  literally,  "  soup-houses  " — although  all  the 
ordinary  dishes  which  constitute  breakfast  and  dinner 
are  served  in  them.  •In  these  places  the  cooking  is 
all  done  in  the  eating-room — an  inclosed  space,  usual- 
ly in  the  centre  of  it,  being  appropriated  for  this  pur- 
pose ;  arid  here  the  different  messes  are  cooked  in 
coppers,  polished  and  shining  like  mirrors.  The  best 
of  these  establishments  are  conducted  by  a  butcher, 
named  Duval,  who  has  no  less  than  ten  of  them  in 
different  parts  of  Paris,  in  which  he  is  said  to  furnish 
food  to  at  least  twenty  thousand  people  daily.  The 
finest  and  most  extensive  of  Duval's  establishments  is 
in  the  Eue  Montesquieu,  just  back  of  the  Hotel  du 
Louvre.  The  room  is  an  immense  one,  capable  of 
dining  a  thousand  people  at  a  time,  with  upper  galle- 
ries extending  entirely  around  it,  and  a  large  space 
in  the  centre  appropriated  to  the  cooking  department, 
presided  over  by  a  number  of  neatly  -  dressed  girls. 
1 1'  re,  as  in  all  these  places,  a  perfect  system  of  check:- 


16(5        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EURORE. 

and  balances  exists  to  prevent  mistakes,  and  insure 
honesty  on  the  part  of  the  employes.  Upon  enter- 
ing the  door,  a  man  sitting  at  a  counter  hands  the 
customer  a  little  printed  bill  of  fare  with  the  price  of 
each  dish  attached,  from  which  he  orders  his  meaL 
As  each  dish  is  ordered,  the  waiter  who  brings  it 
checks  it  off  from  the  bill.  When  the  meal  is  fin- 
ished, the  customer,  in  going  out,  hands  the  bill  to  a 
woman  sitting  at  another  counter.  She  adds  up  the 
amount,  and,  when  it  is  paid,  stamps  the  bill.  The 
customer  then  takes  it,  and  is  required  to  deliver  the 
bill  at  the  door. 

In  these  places  excellent  soup  is  served  at  four 
sous  a  bowl,  vegetables  at  four  sous  a  plate,-  and  roast 
meats  at  seven  and  eight  sous.  A  napkin,  if  used,  is 
charged  one  sou,  but  if  not  used,  is  taken  away  un- 
charged for.  In  some  of  Duval's  establishments  girls 
are  employed  as  waiters,  and  one  of  these  kitchen-res- 
taurants is  well  worth  a  visit  to  those  who  are  at  all 
curious  in  the  gastronomic  art. 

In  one  corner  of  the  Holies  Centrales,  one  of  the 
finest  market-houses  in  the  world,  covering  the  space 
which  was  formerly  the  "Cemetery  of  the  Innocents," 
is  a  queer  collection  of  stalls,  at  which  hundreds,  and 
possibly  thousands  of  the  poor  of  Paris  purchase  their 
daily  provisions.  These  stalls  are  supplied  with  the 
debris  of  the  restaurants  and  hotels  —  pieces  which 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS   EAT.  167 

palled  upon  the  appetite  of  the  guest,  or  were  found 
too  tough  for  mastication,  or  which,  for  some  good 
reason,  even  a  French  cook  was  not  able  to  disguise 
and  convert  into  a  palatable  dish.  These  are  all  as- 
sorted in  plates,  and  ranged  along  the  stall  in  rows  for 
the  inspection,  choice,  and  purchase  of  the  hungry 
poor.  Here  is  a  dish  of  cold  boiled  beef  cut  up  in 
conveniently  small  pieces,  and  looking  dry  and  blue  ; 
next  to  it  a  plate  of  second-hand,  dilapidated  beef- 
steaks or  veal  cutlets,  then  a  dish  of  fried  potatoes,  or 
beans,  or  cabbage.  Back  on  the  shelves  are  bushels 
of  bread,  in  pieces,  generally  very  stale  and  dry;  and 
in  some  of  the  stalls  the  "  sweet  tooth  "  of  the  custom- 
ers may  be  gratified  by  the  purchase  of  old  cakes, 
tarts,  little  pats  of  dirty -looking  blanc-raange,  and  oth- 
er delicacies  fallen  from  their  high  estate.  This  Gol- 
gotha of  departed  good  things  is  visited  every  day  by 
poor  people,  who,  for  a  few  sous,  purchase  sufficient 
to  keep  soul  and  body  together,  and  who  either  eat 
on  the  spot,  or  tumbling  the  purchase  into  a  greasy 
bag,  take  it  to  their  homes,  to  share  it  with  those  who 
are  dependent  on  them. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  HOSPITALS  OF  PARIS. 

Hospital  Lariboisiere.— The  Physician's  Visit.— The  surgical  Wards. 
— The  Operating-room. — Medical  Students.— Chassaignac's  Oper- 
ations with  the  "  Ecraseur." 

NO  city  in  the  world  is  so  well  provided  4s  Paris 
with  public  hospitals — those  noble  institutions 
in  which  are  received,  •"  without  money  and  without 
price,"  the  sick  of  every  nation,  age,  clime,  color,  and 
religion.  Every  description  of  disease,  every  special 
want,  and  every  period  of  life,  from  infancy  to  old  age, 
have  here  establishments  devoted  to  them.  One  is 
appropriated  to  poor  women  about  becoming  mothers; 
another,  the  foundling  hospital,  to  the  reception  and 
care  of  abandoned  infants ;  another  exists,  in  which 
children  only  are  received  from  the  public  institutions, 
or  when  brought  thither  by  their  parents.  Two  hos- 
pitals are  expressly  set  apart  for  aged  people,  and  two 
are  devoted  to  the  care  and  comfort  of  incurable  pa- 
tients of  both  sexes.  In  one  establishment,  the  Hos- 
pice des  Menages,  old  married  couples  may  live,  and 
terminate  their  career  together.  Others  have  been 
arranged  for  the  care  of  persons  who,  without  being 


THE   HOSPITALS   OF   PARIS.  169 

utterly  destitute,  do  not  possess  sufficient  means  to 
enable  them  to  live  independently,  and  who,  giving 
their  incomes  to  the  institutions,  are  provided  for  dur- 
ing their  lives.  Numbers  of  old  army  officers  with 
small  pensions  live  in  this  manner,  and  many  mem- 
bers of  families  once  proud  and  rich,  but  who  in  the 
revolutions 'that  have  successively  swept  over  France 
have  been  well-nigh  ruined,  avail  themselves  now  of 
this  charitable  provision. 

Besides  these  establishments  devoted  to  special 
purposes,  there  are  in  Paris  eight  general  hospitals, 
intended  for  the  reception  of  persons  of  both  sexes 
attacked  with  acute  diseases,  and  for  those  who  have 
been  maimed,  or  who  require  the  performance  of  sur- 
gical operations.  The  only  necessary  passport  of  ad- 
mission is  the  fact  of  being  sick,  or  of  requiring  sur- 
gical treatment.  Foreigners,  however,  must  have  re- 
sided six  months  in  Paris  to  entitle  them  to  free  admis- 
sion. A  gratuitous  consultation  is  held  every  morning 
at  each  hospital,  at  which  patients  may  present  them- 
selves, or  they  may  be  sent  to  any  particular  establish- 
ment upon  application  to  the  Bureau  Cenlrale.  These 
hospitals  contain,  each,  from  three  to  eight  hundred 
beds,  and  the  number  of  patients  annually  received 
amounts  to  nearly  ninety  thousand,  about  six  thou- 
sand being  always  in  occupancy  of  the  beds.  Twelve 
thousand    aged    people    aro    provided    for    in    thorn. 

8 


170       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

About  five  thousand  foundlings  are  annually  commit- 
ted to  the  fostering  care  of  the  good  Sisters  of  St.  Yin- 
cent  de  Paul,  which  order  was  expressly  established 
by  its  benevolent  founder  for  the  shelter  of  these  poor 
little  outcasts ;  these  waifs  thrown  homeless  upon  the 
bleak  shore  of  life's  stormy  ocean.  The  most  cele- 
brated surgeons  and  physicians  of  Paris,  such  as 
Messrs.  Nelaton,  Velpeau,  and  Chassaignac,  pay  daily 
visits  to  the  patients  in  the  different  hospitals  and 
prescribe  for  them. 

The  annual  cost  of  caring  for  the  sick  in  the  Paris- 
ian hospitals  is  about  twenty-two  millions  of  francs, 
derived  from  the  following  sources:  Revenues  from 
property  bequeathed  to  the  fund ;  receipts  from  thea- 
tres and  other  places  of  public  amusement  (ten  per 
cent,  of  the  gross  receipts);  receipts  from  paying  pa- 
tients, and  a  subvention  from  the  city  of  twelve  mil- 
lions of  francs.  The  average  daily  cost  of  maintenance 
of  each  patient  in  the  general  hospitals  is  two  francs 
and  twenty-five  centimes.  In  the  hospice  for  old  peo- 
ple it  is  but  one  franc  and  a  half. 

The  Hospital  Lariboi  sieve,  which  is  the  newest 
and  finest  establishment  of  the  kind  in  Paris,  was  a 
frequent  place  of  resort  of  mine  in  company  with 
some  one  of  my  medical  acquaintances;  and  as  the 
routine  and  management  of  all  the  general  hospitals 
is  the  same,  a  description  of  this  will  answer  for  all. 


THE   HOSPITALS   OF   PARIS.  171 

It  contains  six  hundred  and  twelve  beds,  divided  into 
twenty  different  wards.  At  eight  o'clock  each  morn- 
ing, the  visit  of  the  physician,  who  usually  has  two 
wards,  including  about  eighty  patients,  under  his 
charge,  is  made.  The  first  thing  which  strikes  the 
visitor,  upon  entering  one  of  the  wards,  is  the  air  of 
exceeding  cleanliness  and  neatness  which  pervades 
the  whole.  The  floors  are  of  wood,  polished  with 
wax ;  the  beds  are  ranged  along  on  either  side,  leav- 
ing a  broad  walk  between  them.  Each  bed  is  hung 
with  a  canopy  of  white  sheeting,  and  at  the  foot  of  it 
is  a  card  stating  the  name  and  residence,  disease  and 
time  of  admission  of  the  patient.  In  each  ward,  hov- 
ering around  the  bedside  of  the  sick  like  angels  of 
mercy,  are  several  sisters 'of  the  orders  of  St.  Vincent, 
St.  Martha,  St.  Augustine,  or  some  other  of  the  re- 
ligious orders  which  the  Catholic  Church  has  insti- 
tuted as  a  retreat  for  those  who,  tired  of  the  follies 
and  frivolities  of  the  world,  desire  to  spend  their  lives 
in  offices  of  charity  and  goodness.  These  women  de- 
vote themselves  to  the  care  of  the  sick,  performing 
often  the  most  menial  services,  cheering  the  con- 
valescent with  the  radiance  of  their  heavenly  faces, 
and  pointing  the  poor  sufferers,  when  the  visions  of 
this  world  are  fading  into  eternity,  to  the  cross  of 
the  Saviour,  and  the  life  beyond  the  hospital  and  the 
grave.     One  sees  these  angels  of  mercy  in  every  street 


172       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

in  Paris,  bent  upon  some  charitable  errand,  and  big- 
oted indeed  must  he  be  whose  religious  prejudices 
would  prevent  his  heart  from  doing  homage  to  these 
noble  and  self-sacrificing  women.  Theirs  is  no  life 
of  indolent  worship;  no  mere  muttering  of  paters 
and  aves,  and  counting  of  beads  upon  a  rosary,  consti- 
tutes their  labor,  but  their  time  is  spent  in  an  active, 
ceaseless  round  of  charitable  toil.  With  tender  cares, 
such  as  a  woman  only  knows  how  to  apply,  these 
"sisters"  minister  wherever  suffering  demands  their 
aid.  Childless,  and  ever  to  be  so,  they  are  the  moth- 
ers of  the  orphans  and  foundlings  whose  parents  are 
dead,  or  have  deserted  them,  and  their  unmated  hearts 
embrace  within  their  large  folds  all  who  need  their 
aid  or  sympathy,  regardless  of  clime,  creed,  or  color. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  is  only  the 
old,  ugly,  and  soured  women  who  take  the  vow  of 
chastity,  poverty,  and  obedience,  and  whose  lives,  un- 
der the  instruction  and  control  of  the  Church,  are 
spent  in  deeds  of  active  benevolence.  Beautiful  faces 
oftener  peep  out  from  the  white  or  black  hoods  of  the 
"sisters;"  and  forms  which  would  excite  the  liveliest 
admiration  in  the  salons  of  fashion,  are  seen  bending 
over  the  bedsides  of  the  sick  and  dying,  administer- 
ing comfort  and  consolation.  If  there  are,  indeed,  in 
heaven  "many  mansions,"  these  noble  and  devoted 
women  certainly  earn  a  claim  to  one  of  the  grandest 


THE    HOSPITALS    OF    PARIS.  178 

and  most  beautiful ;  or  will  they  there,  as  here,  be 
"  ministering  angels,"  amply  recompensed  by  being 
servants  of  the  Lord,  and — doing  good  ? 

The  physician,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  medical  stu- 
dents who  attend  the  hospital  every  morning,  goes  to 
the  bedside  of  each  patient,  asks  a  few  questions, 
makes  a  physical  examination  if  necessary,  and  if 
in  a  good  humor,  utters  a  word  of  encouragement 
and  prescribes  the  treatment  for  the  ensuing  twenty- 
four-hours,  which  is  noted  down  by  an  assistant  in 
a  book  kept  for  the  purpose.  The  wards  for  females 
are  precisely  similar  in  arrangement  to  those  of  the 
males.  I  recollect,  in  m}r  first  visit,  I  noticed  some 
very  pretty,  pale  faces  peering  out  from  the  neat^ 
white  caps  which  the  patients  wore.  Many  of  them 
were  suffering  from  typhoid  fever,  the  scourge  of 
Paris,  and  one  poor  little  girl  of  some  seventeen 
summers,  at  whose  bedside  even  the  old  physician 
seemed  inclined  to  linger  longer  than  usual,  was  evi- 
dently fast  fading  away  with  consumption.  The  doc- 
tor kindly  called  her  mafille,  and  told  her  to  be  cour- 
ageous, and  her  dimming  eye  lighted  up  for  a  moment 
as  though  she  was  determined  to  try ;  but,  as  we  left 
her  bedside,  she  had  settled  back  into  the  listless, 
careless  state  in  which  we  found  her.  Poor  child  ! 
I  saw  by  the  card  at  the  foot  of  her  bed  that  she  was 
a  Hngere,  and  she  had  probably  for  the  past  three  or 


174       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

four  years  been  stitching  her  life  away  in  some  damp 
and  sunless  garret  till  she  could  work  no  longer.  I 
hope  she  had  some  friends  to  claim  her  poor  remains 
after  she  had  passed  "  through  that  gate  of  evergreens 
which  men  call  death ;"  for  if  not,  her  poor  little  body 
would  have  to  be  submitted  to  the  dissecting-knife  of 
the  student,  and  her  delicate  limbs  hacked  to  pieces, 
and  afterward  mingled  promiscuously  with  dozens 
of  others,  thrown  into  the  huge  ditch  where  the  un- 
known poor,  who  die  in  the  hospitals  of  Paris,  are 
tumbled  like  dead  dogs. 

From  the  sick  ward  we  pass  into  the  surgical 
wards,  which  are  under  the  care  of  the  celebrated 
Chassaignac,  a  little,  stout,  good-humored*  looking 
man,  wearing  a  white  apron,  and  having  much  of  the 
air  and  general  appearance  of  a  jolly  butcher,  par- 
ticularly as  his  apron,  whenever  I  saw  him,  was  cov- 
ered with  blood,  the  effect  of  wiping  his  fingers  on 
it  after  feeling  of  and  operating  upon  wounds.  In 
these  wards  are  all  sorts  of  cases  requiring  surgical 
treatment.  Each  patient  is  examined,  and  his  case 
described  to  the  students,  who  gather  around  the  bed- 
side as  soon  as  the  surgeon  stops.  I  observed  that 
he  passed  one  bed  one  morning  without  halting, 
and  looking  through  the  curtains,  I  saw  a  head  re- 
sembling more  a  huge  cauliflower  than  any  thing 
human  —  the  eyes  completely  closed,  and  the  whole 


THE   HOSPITALS   OF   PARIS.  175 

face  a  scab.  "  What  is  the  matter  with  that  man  ?" 
I  asked  of  a  medical  friend  with  whom  I  had  come 
to  the  hospital.  "Small -pox,"  he  laconically  re- 
plied. I  felt  very  much  like  running ;  but  having 
determined  to  go  through  the  entire  routine  that 
morning,  I  simply  hurried  to  the  end  of  the  ward 
nearest  the  door,  where  I  could  get  a  breath  of  fresh 
air  from  the  court-yard. 

In  Paris,  and  indeed  throughout  France,  there  are 
no  special  hospitals  for  small-pox  patients,  and  the  gen- 
eral hospitals  are  often  crowded  with  them.  The  phy- 
sicians say  that  their  chances  of  recovery  are  greatly 
increased  by  their  being  scattered  among  the  general 
wards,  instead  of  confining  them  together.  This  is 
undoubtedly  true ;  but  I  should  suppose  that  the 
risks  to  which  the  other  patients  are  exposed  on  this 
account  would  quite  balance  the  advantage,  as  it  is 
not  unfrequent  that  cases  occur  of  patients  catching 
the  disease  in  the  hospitals  and  dying.  The  French 
Government  encourage  vaccination  in  every  possible 
manner,  and  in  each  arrondissement  of  Paris  are  bu- 
reaus where  persons  may  not  only  be  vaccinated  gra- 
tuitously, but  where  parents  are  actually  paid  the 
sum  of  three  francs  each  for  submitting  their  chil- 
dren to  the  operation.  Besides  this,  no  child  can  be 
admitted  into  the  public  schools  of  Paris  without  the 
presentation  of  a  certificate  of  vaccination. 


176       AN   AMERICAN    JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

The  cliniques   are    held  every   Monday   morning 
in  the  amphitheatre,  the    surgeon    keeping  through 
the   week   such  cases  as  do  not  require  immediate 
treatment,  for  the  purpose  of  performing  the  necessa- 
ry operations   in   the  presence  of  the  crowd  of  stu- 
dents who  flock  to    the  hospitals  to  witness  them. 
The  operating-room  is  a  little,  badly -ventilated  am- 
phitheatre, capable   of   holding  about   two  hundred 
persons,  and  adjoining  one  of  the  surgical  wards  of 
the  hospital.     The  seats  are  raised,  and  upon  them, 
on  the  occasion  of  my  last  visit,  I  found,  some  sitting, 
and  others  standing,  a  considerable  number  of  medi- 
cal students.     These  are  generally  young  men,  gath- 
ered from  all  parts  of  the  world,  who  have -come  to 
Paris  to  avail  themselves  of  the  facilities  such  as  no 
other  city  affords  for  the  study  of  medical  science. 
Some    are    rich,  and   more   are    poor ;     some   well- 
dressed,  but  a  greater  proportion  wearing  coats  whose 
texture  is  plainly  distinguishable,  and  sleepy-looking, 
napless  hats.     They  are  a  very  free-and-easy  looking 
set,  and  are  standing  on  the  benches,  with  their  hats 
on,  some  smoking  pipes  and  cigarettes,  which  are  ex- 
tinguished upon  the   entrance  of  Chassaignac.      At 
the  foot  of  the  amphitheatre  is  a  low  railing,  inside 
of  which  is  a  table  covered  with  a  sheet ;  on  the  win- 
dow back  of  it  are  several  boxes  filled  with  knives, 
and  saws,  and  hooks,  and  a  quantity  of  horrible-look- 


THE    HOSPITALS    OF    PARIS.  1 1  t 

ing  instruments,  used  only  in  the  surgeon's  art.  Two 
or  three  basins  containing  sponges,  a  basket  of  lint, 
several  pails  of  water,  and  a  quantity  of  bottles  and 
towels  complete  the  paraphernalia,  and  the  surgeon 
and  half  a  dozen  assistants,  all  wearing  white  aprons 
besmeared  with  blood,  are  standing  around,  as  if  im- 
patiently waiting  for  a  victim.  The  entire  scene,  in- 
deed, was  not  a  little  calculated  to  remind  one  of  the 
stories  and  pictures  of  scenes  in  the  history  of  the 
Spanish  Inquisition. 

The  victim  soon  arrived ;  he  was  brought  in  on  a 
stretcher,  and  wore  nothing  but  his  shirt.  He  was 
placed  by  the  assistants  upon  the  table,  one  taking 
hold  of  each  foot,  one  standing  at  either  side,  while 
another,  pouring  some  chloroform  from  a  bottle  upon 
a  sponge,  held  it  within  an  inch  of  his  nostrils.  Imme- 
diately the  man  began  to  groan,  and  pant,  and  breathe 
with  difficulty,  the  muscles  of  his  legs  contracted  vio- 
lently, and  he  appeared  to  be  in  terrible  agony.  His 
teeth  grated  against  each  other,  and  his  moans  were 
sorrowful  to  hear.  In  order  more  to  concentrate  the 
vapor,  a  towel  was  placed  over  his  face,  and  the  sponge 
containing  the  chloroform  held  beneath  it ;  then  he  be- 
gan to  sob  and  cry,  "  No,  no,  don't,  please ;  do  let  me 
alone !"  Soon,  however,  he  grew  more  quiet,  and  in 
five  minutes  from  the  time  he  was  brought  in  was 
sound  asleep.     The  operation   was  for  rancor  of  the 

8* 


178       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

rectum,  and  was  commenced  by  the  insertion  of  a 
curved  trocart.  Chassaignac,  like  most  great  men, 
has  a  hobby  ;  he  is  the  inventor  of  a  surgical  in- 
strument called  the  ecraseur,  with  which  he  replaces 
the  knife  in  many  operations.  In  this  instrument,  a 
steel  chain,  composed  of  small  and  not  particularly 
sharp  links,  is  used  to  perform  the  cutting,  or  rather 
tearing  of  the  flesh,  the  advantage  over  the  knife  be- 
ing that  the  hemorrhage  is  much  less.  The  opera- 
tion is  considerably  longer,  however,  as  the  chain  is 
wound  up  very  slowly.  After  inserting  the  trocart, 
the  chain  was  run  through  and  re-fastened,  and  the 
surgeon  commenced  slowly  screwing  it  up,  making 
an  irritating  noise  like  that  produced  by  winding  up 
a  clock.  The  patient  lay  perfectly  still,  although  oc- 
casionally uttering  a  low  and  plaintive  moan.  While 
winding  up  the  chain,  the  surgeon  explained  the  op- 
eration to  the  students,  who  were  all  eagerly  bend- 
ing forward  to  watch  every  movement.  The  blood 
was  pouring  out  rather  freely,  and  a  non-professional 
friend  who  was  with  me,  touching  me  on  the  shoul- 
der, suggested  that  "  it  was  very  warm."  I  turned, 
and  saw  that  his  face  was  ashy  pale ;  but  before  I 
could  speak  to  him  he  made  a  spring  for  the  door, 
and  I  saw  no  more  of  him  till  an  hour  afterward  at 
breakfast,  where  he  was  consoling  his  stomach  with  a 
rognon  saute  and  an  omelette  aux  fines  herbes.     The  sur- 


THE    HOSPITALS    OF    PARIS.  179 

geon,  before  lie  completed  the  operation,  which  is  con- 
sidered a  bold  and  dangerous  one,  informed  the  class 
that  it  afforded  the  only  hope  of  life  to  the  patient ; 
that  it  had  often  succeeded,  and  oftener  still  had 
failed ;  but  that  the  fact  of  occasional  success,  coupled 
with  the  certainty  of  death  without  it,  was  a  suffi-. 
cient  warrant  for  its  performance ;  and  with  this  he 
exhibited  an  enormous  cancerous  tumor,  which  had 
been  separated  from  the  flesh  by  the  ecraseur,  and  the 
patient,  still  sleeping  soundly  under  the  blessed  influ- 
ence of  chloroform,  was  taken  back  to  the  surgical 
ward. 

A  poor  woman  with  a  cancer  of  the  foot,  and  look- 
ing neat  and  clean,  with  a  white  cap  and  chemise,  and 
a  brown  woollen  skirt  on,  was  next  brought  in.  She 
was  laid  on  her  back  on  the  operating-table,  and  while 
the  assistants  were  administering  chloroform  to  her, 
M.  Chassaignac  amused  himself  with  a  minor  opera- 
tion, the  removal  of  an  enlarged  tonsil  from  a  young 
man's  throat.  He  did  it  very  skillfully  ;  but  a  person 
inclined  to  be  fastidious  might  have  insisted  that  he 
should  give  his  fingers  a  wipe,  as  they  had  just  been 
handling  the  tumor  from  the  cancerous  patient,  and 
were  covered  with  blood.  However,  as  all  these  op- 
erations are  performed  gratuitously,  the  young  man 
probably  thought  it  would  not  be  proper  to  exhibit 
any  undue  degree  of  sensitiveness. 


180       AN    AMERICAN    JOURNALIST    IN    EUROPE. 

By  this  time  the  woman  was  sound  asleep,  and  the 
surgeon  commenced  what  is  technically  known  as 
Lisfranc's  operation  for  the  amputation  of  the  foot, 
and  which  consists  in  cutting  off  the  entire  fore  part 
of  the  foot,  including  all  the  toes,  up  to  near  the 
instep.  The  knife  was  inserted,  and  handled  and 
turned  with  the  same  delicacy  and  skill  with  which 
an  expert  carver  would  dodge  the  joints  in  a  turkey, 
and  in  less  than  a  minute  the  operation  was  comple- 
ted, the  bottom  skin  of  the  foot  being  left  as  a  flap, 
to  cover  over  the  torn  and  bleeding  flesh.  The  pa- 
tient had  not  moved  during  the  operation  ;  but  when 
her  foot  was  bound  up,  and  she  was  being  placed 
upon  the  stretcher  to  be  carried  away,  she  awoke  and 
commenced  imploring  the  surgeon  not  to  perform  the 
operation,  so  utterly  unconscious  was  she  that  it  had 
already  been  completed.  This  was  the  last  of  the  op- 
erations for  the  day,  and  the  poor  and  seedy  students 
started  for  some  cremerie,  or  cheap  restaurant,  to  get  a 
ten-sous  breakfast,  while  the  favored  of  fortune  wend- 
ed their  way  to  more  expensive  establishments. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   CLOSERIE   DE   LILAS. 

Students  and  Etudiantes. — "  Grisettes  "  of  the  Past  and  Present. — 
The  Society  at  the  "Closerie." — The  male  and  female  Dancers. — 
Remarkable  Terpsichorean  Gymnastics. — The  Cancan. — Order  and 
Propriety. 

rl  ^HE  Closerie  cle  Lilas,  as  it  is  called  in  the  sum- 
-■-  mer,  and  the  Prado,  as  known  in  the  winter,  is  a 
garden  situated  on  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel,  at  the  end 
of  the  garden  of  the  Luxembourg.  In  the  summer, 
as  at  the  more  aristocratic  balls  of  the  Mabille,  the 
dancing  at  the  Closerie  is  in  the  open  air,  while  in  win- 
ter a  portion  of  the  garden  is  inclosed  and  made  com- 
fortable. Here  balls  are  given  four  nights  in  the 
week  through  the  whole  year,  and  this  is  the  favorite 
resort  of  the  students  of  the  Latin  Quarter,  accom- 
panied by  their  young  female  friends,  to  whom  the 
name  of  etudiantes  has  been  facetiously  applied. 
These  girls  belong  to  a  class  which  is  rapidly  becom- 
ing extinct — the  grisette — or  rather  they  did  belong  to 
it  when  it  existed  ;  for  now  it  can  scarcely  be  said  to 
exist  at  all  as  a  class,  even  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
Seine  and  in  the  Quariier  Latin,  which  twenty  years 
ago   was  crowded   with   its  representatives.     A   few 


182        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

types  of  the  grisette  remain,  considerably  fossilized, 
wearing  the  saucy  cap  and  gray  woollen  or  cotton 
dress  and  white  apron,  and  may  occasionally  be  seen 
flitting,  like  shadows  of  the  past,  through  the  crowds 
which  at  all  hours  of  the  day  are  crossing  the  Pont 
Neuf,  or  wending  their  way  homeward  from  their  dai- 
ly labors,  along  the  narrow  sidewalks  of  the  Eue  de 
Seine.  But  the  luxurious  tendencies  of  the  present 
age,  the  "  fastness  "  of  modern  times,  and  the  increase 
of  wealth,  have  destroyed  the  peculiarities  of  the  gri- 
sette race  ;  and  now,  instead  of  being,  as  formerly,  con- 
tented and  happy,  and  certainly  much  neater  look- 
ing in  their  white  caps  and  aprons,  and  gray  gowns, 
they  must  flaunt  in  silks,  and  muslins,  and'bonnets 
decorated  with  artificial  vegetables,  fruits,  and  flow- 
ers. Their  morals  have  not  improved  either,  with 
their  change  of  dress.  At  the  period  referred  to, 
these  girls  usually  formed  alliances  with  the  students 
of  the  Quartier,  but  continued  at  their  work,  and  were 
satisfied  with  the  occasional  present  of  a  new  cotton 
robe,  and  the  treat  of  a  dinner  outside  the  Barrihe 
on  Sundays.  Poverty  and  constancy  were  said  to  go 
hand  in  hand  in  those  days ;  but  all  is  changed. 
Some  of  these  girls  still  continue  their  labors  as  book- 
folders  and  stitchers,  dressmakers  and  tailoresses,-but 
they  have  ceased  to  be  contented  with  their  lot,  their 
labor,  their  gray  gowns  and  faithful  lovers,  as  former- 


THE    CLOSERIE    DE    LILAS.  183 

ly,  and,  it  is  said,  have  become  mercenary,  discontent- 
ed, and  unfaithful.  Even  now,  however,  the  young 
females  who  visit  the  Closerie  de  Lilas  enjoy  the  repu- 
tation of  possessing  a  greater  amount  of  virtue — ac- 
cording to  their  standard  of  "  virtue,"  which  consists 
in  having  but  one  amant  at  a  time — than  the  frequent- 
ers of  any  other  public  ball  in  Paris. 

The  Closerie  de  Lilas  on  a  pleasant  summer  evening- 
presents  a  sight  well  worth  witnessing — once  at  least. 
It  is  not  exactly  the  locality  to  which  a  young  man 
just  commencing  life  could  be  conscientiously  recom- 
mended to  go  for  the  benefit  either  of  his  physical  or 
moral  health,  but  it  is  one,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  which 
most  young  men  who  come  to  Paris  find  among 
the  first.  It  is  certainly  a  funny  place.  There  are 
in  the  Latin  Quarter  some  three  or  four  thousand  stu- 
dents of  medicine,  Jaw,  and  art,  many  of  whom  do 
not  cross  the  bridges  once  a  month,  and  whose  even- 
ing's amusement  is  found  at  the  Closerie.  The  price 
of  admittance  is  one  franc,  and  "ladies  free;"  and  as 
the  balls  commence  at  eight,  and  continue  till  eleven 
o'clock,  it  certainly  can  not  be  considered  high.  A 
"  full  dress"  is  not  required  to  gain  admittance  to  this 
ball,  nor  is  it  necessary,  when  dancing,  to  remove  the 
hat  from  the  head  or  the  pipe  from  the  mouth.  About 
ten  o'clock  the  floor  is  generally  thronged,  and  the 
orchestra  scarcely  discernible  through  the  thick  cloud 


184       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

of  tobacco-smoke.  Young  men  who  have  been  por- 
ing all  day  over  the  musty  tomes  of  medicine  or 
law,  or  engaged  in  the  cheerful  operation  of  cutting 
up  dead  bodies,  crowd  into  the  Oloserie  at  night  for 
recreation. 

A  quadrille  at  the  Closerie  de  Lilas  no  more  re- 
sembles a  quadrille  in  the  "  best  society,"  than  does 
the  wild  dance  of  the  Polynesian  the  grave  and  for- 
mal menuet  de  la  cour. 

These  balls  are  in  fact  indescribable,  and  "  must  be 
seen  to  be  appreciated."  Although  the  figures  are 
the  same  as  in  ordinary  quadrilles,  the  great  deside- 
ratum appears  to  be  to  make  the  dancing  as  grotesque 
as  possible.  The  men  dance  on  their  heels,  and  double 
themselves  up  into  a  shape  resembling  a  bull-frog, 
swing  their  arms  about  like  sails  in  a  rude  wind,  kick 
up  their  feet  in  the  most  surprising  manner,  and 
occasionally  turn  a  somersault  from  one  side  of  the 
space  allotted  for  the  quadrille  to  the  other,  alighting 
in  their  proper  places  in  perfect  time  with  the  music, 
and,  seizing  their  partners  by  the  waist,  continue  the 
galopade  as  though  nothing  had  happened.  What 
adds  greatly  to  the  singularity  of  the  scene  is  the  im- 
perturbable gravity  maintained  by  the  prominent  act- 
ors in  it ;  not  a  smile  escaping  them  while  executing 
the  most  ridiculous  manoeuvres  in  the  wild  cancan. 

But  the  movements  of  the  women  in  this  exciting, 


THE    CLOSERIE    DE    LILAS.  185 

free-and-easy  dance,  eclipse  any  thing  of  the  kind  any- 
where else  in  the  world.  Many  of  those  who  visit 
the  Closerie  are  celebrated  for  their  peculiar  style  of 
dancing;  and  around  these  crowds  of  visitors  always 
gather  when  they  are  preparing  for  a  quadrille. 
With  the  exception  of  an  easy,  careless  swinging  of 
the  body,  which  contrasts  strikingly  with  the  stiff 
and  formal  manner  in  which  the  quadrille  is  walked 
through  in  fashionable  society,  and  an  occasional  ex- 
hibition of  hosiery  which  would  be  considered  highly 
improper  in  the  higher  circles,  nothing  particularly 
objectionable  or  peculiar  is  done  during  the  first  por- 
tion of  the  dance.  As  they  become  warmed  by  the 
exercise  and  excited  hj  the  music,  what  remnants  of 
modesty  and  reserve  still  cling  to  them  by  reason  of 
their  womanhood  are  thrown  off,  and  the  danseuse, 
particularly  if  she  be  a  celebrity,  and  has  an  admiring 
crowd  about  her,  prepares  herself  for  an  exhibition  of 
her  peculiar  talents.  With  her  arms  she  gathers  up 
in  front  the  ample  folds  of  her  skirts  in  such  a  man- 
ner and  to  such  a  degree  as  to  prove  beyond  the  shad- 
ow of  a  doubt,  to  the  student  in  natural  history,  that 
woman  as  well  as  man  is  a  bifurcated  animal.  Ee- 
leased  then  from  the  thraldom  of  her  skirts,  she  starts 
across  the  space,  kicking  alternately  with  one  and  the 
other  of  the  lower  limbs  as  high  as  her  head,  and  in 
lime  with  the  music,  occasionally  amusing  herself  by 


186       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

removing  with  the  end  of  her  foot  the  hat  from  the 
head  of  her  vis-a-vis,  or  knocking  in  the  same  manner 
the  pipe  from  his  mouth.  When  the  quadrille  is  fin- 
ished she  goes  into  one  of  the  alcoves,  and  refreshes 
herself  with  beer  and  cigarettes. 

The  utmost  "order  and  propriety  "  are  maintained 
at  these  balls ;  several  policemen  being  present,  who 
occasionally,  when  the  saltatory  movements  of  the 
young  ladies  become  too  marked,  tap  them  upon  the 
shoulder,  and  remind  them  that  "  the  decencies  of  life 
must  be  observed."  Quarrels  rarely  occur ;  and  these 
saturnalia  usually  pass  off  with  the  utmost  good-hu- 
mor and  gayety. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   FOUNDLING  HOSPITAL  OF   PARIS. 

How  Foundlings  are  taken  in  and  done  for. — Visit  to  the  Hospital. — 
The  new-born  Babies. — The  Infirmaries. — How  the  Foundlings 
are  cared  for. — How  they  become  Foundlings — Their  Mothers. — 
A  grave  moral  and  social  Question. — Legitimate  and  illegitimate 
Births  in  Paris. 

A  MOXGr  the  benevolent  institutions  of  Paris,  one 
-*--*-  of  the  most  interesting  to  the  stranger  is  the 
Foundling  Hospital,  where  children  abandoned  vol- 
untarily by  their  mothers  are  cared  for  during  their 
infancy — the  administration  retaining  charge  of  them 
until  they  are  twenty-one  years  of  age,  the  males  be- 
ing apprenticed  to  trades,  or  placed  with  farmers,  and 
the  girls  either  married,  or  situations  as  domestics  pro- 
cured for  them.  Formerly  a  revolving  box,  called  a 
tour,  placed  in  a  niche  in  the  wall  on  the  street,  was 
the  medium  by  which  the  abandoned  child  was  in- 
troduced to  its  new  home,  and  the  tender  care  of  the 
excellent  Sisters  of  St.  Vincent  de  Paul — the  benev- 
olent founder  of  which  order,  in  the  year  1640,  es- 
tablished this  hospital.  At  present  it  is  necessary, 
before  a  child  can  be  received  into  the  institution, 
that  a  certificate,  signed  by  the  Commissary  of  Po- 


188'       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

lice  of  the  quartkr  in  which  the  mother  lives,  shall  be 
presented,  and  her  name  and  address  taken.  Every 
effort  is  made  to  induce  the  mother  to  retain  the 
child,  in  which  event  assistance  is  rendered  her  from 
the  hospital  fund.  If,  however,  she  persists  in  its 
abandonment,  it  is  received  and  carried  into  a  room 
called  the  creche,  where  it  is  placed  before  the  fire  on 
a  bench.  A  ticket  bearing  its  number,  made  out  in 
the  order  in  which  it  arrives  —  No.  1  commencing 
with  the  first  child  brought  in  at  the  beginning 
of  each  year — is  then  attached  to  its  clothing.  The 
child  is  now  washed  and  nursed  by  a  number  of  stout, 
healthy-looking  women,  placed  in  one  of  the  infirm- 
aries if  sick,  and  if  a  healthy  child,  retained  in  the 
creche  until  it  is  sent,  as  all  the  children  are  as  soon  as 
possible,  into  the  country  to  nurse. 

The  last  visit  I  made  to  the  hospital  was  in  the  lat- 
ter part  of  December,  and  there  were  then  nine  little 
lumps  of  humanity  lying  swaddled  up  in  their  cloth- 
ing upon  the  bench  in  front  of  a  good  fire,  looking 
like  a  row  of  onions  on  strings.  These  had  all  been 
brought  in  during  the  day,  and  most  of  them  had  first 
opened  their  eyes  to  the  daylight,  and  drawn  their 
first  breath  of  God's  fresh  air,  and  had  their  first  won- 
der as  to  "  what  it  was  all  about,"  either  on  that  day 
or  the  previous  one.  The  last  child  which  had  come 
;n  was  ticketed  No.  4897,  and   the  yearly  average 


THE    FOUNDLING    HOSPITAL    OF    PARIS.  189 

of  infants  thus  abandoned  is  a  little  more  than  five 
thousand.  The  sight  was  not  one  calculated  to  incline 
a  bachelor  to  matrimony,  for  they  are  not  handsome, 
these  little  one-day-old  wayfarers,  who  already  look 
wearied  and  worn  before  they  have  fairly  commenced 
the  journey  of  life.  Poor  little  fatherless — more  than 
motherless — orphans.  May  the  good  God,  who  cares 
for  the  sparrow,  bear  up  their  little  wings  through  all 
their  flight  to  a  home  where  they  shall  find  a  loving 
Father. 

There  were  about  a  hundred  children  in  the  room, 
most  of  them  but  a  few  days  old,  sleeping  in  neat  lit- 
tle cribs,  covered  with  clean  white  curtains.  These 
were  only  waiting  for  nurses  to  come  and  take  them 
to  the  country.  The  administration  has  organized 
a  perfect  system  for  the  care  and  nursing  of  the 
children  which  are  sent  away.  The  whole  of  France 
is  apportioned  for  this  purpose  into  districts,  in  each 
one  of  which  a  director  is  appointed,  whose  duty  it  is 
to  visit,  at  least  once  a  year,  every  child  placed  out  to 
nurse  or  be  cared  for  in  his  department,  and  at  the 
same  time  to  procure  nurses  for  the  constantly-arriv- 
ing children.  These  women,  who  are  usually  the 
wives  of  peasants,  and  what  would  be  considered  in 
France  "well-to-do"  people,  who  keep  a  cow  and  a 
pig,  and  hire  and  till  a  few  acres  of  land,  and  to  whom 
the  additional  care  of  a  little  child  is  no  groat  burden, 


190       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

come  to  Paris,  remain  a  few  days  at  the  hospital,  and 
then  each  one,  with  her  charge,  returns  home  again. 
They  receive  from  eight  to  thirteen  francs  a  month 
each  from  the  administration  for  their  services. 

Over  the  door  which  gives  entrance  to  the  creche 
is  the  appropriate  sentence,  "  Mon  pere  et  ma  mere 
■mJont  abandone,  maish  Seigneur  a  pris  soin  de  moi" — 
"  My  father  and  my  mother  have  forsaken  me,  but 
the  Lord  has  cared  for  me."  Passing  beneath  this,  we 
visited  the  infirmaries,  of  which  there  are  four— one  for 
medical,  one  for  surgical,  one  for  ophthalmic  cases, 
and  one  for  measles — and  in  all  these  the  cradles  were 
well  filled  with  little  sufferers,  some  of  whom  were 
rapidly  and  painfully,  breathing  away  their  young 
lives.  Thence  we  visited  the  school-rooms,  where  the 
children  are  taught  by  some  intelligent  and  cheerful- 
looking  Sisters  of  St.  Vincent,  and  the  play-rooms, 
where,  also  under  the  charge  of  the  good  sisters,  they 
amuse  themselves.  Everywhere,  as  in  all  the  public 
institutions  of  France,  every  thing  was  neat  and  clean, 
and  all  cold  speculation  as  to  the  propriety  and  effect 
upon  public  morals  of  such  institutions  as  these  must 
give  way,  in  the  mind  of  the  visitor,  to  a  feeling  of 
thankfulness  that  there  is  so  comfortable  a  place  where 
these  poor  little  outcasts  are  so  well  sheltered. 

Most  of  the  children  are  sent  to  the  country  before 
they  are  two  years  of  age,  and  at  twelve  the  boys  are 


THE   FOUNDLING   HOSPITAL   OF   PARIS.  191 

usually  bound  apprentices  to  trades,  while  the  girls 
frequently  remain  in  the  families  of  their  nurses,  by 
whom  they  are  often  adopted,  or  are  furnished  places 
as  domestics.  When  they  marry,  provided  their  con- 
duct has  been  unexceptionable,  they  receive  from  the 
administration  each  a  marriage  portion  of  one  hun- 
dred and  forty-eight  francs.  As  the  administration 
retains  the  general  control  of  the  foundlings  until 
they  are  of  age,  they  have  a  large  number  continu- 
ally on  their  hands;  and  the  director  informed  me  at 
the  time  of  my  last  visit  that  there  were  then  no  less 
than  forty-five  thousand  under  age,  over  whom  the  ad- 
ministration kept  its  fatherly  eye.  Only  about  one  in 
a  hundred  are  ever  reclaimed,  although  the  mother, 
by  giving  proof  of  character  and  ability  to  support  it, 
can  at  any  time  before  it  becomes  of  age  obtain  pos- 
session of  her  child. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  the  large  majority  of  chil- 
dren in  the  foundling  hospital  are  illegitimate,  al- 
though instances  of  children  born  in  wedlock  and 
abandoned  by  their  parents  on  account  of  poverty 
occasionally  occur.  Most  of  the  children  are  the  off- 
spring of  sewing-girls,  shop-girls,  domestics,  artificial- 
flower  makers,  and  workers  at  the  thousand-and-one 
trades  which  arc  plied  in  Paris.  It  is  almost  ask- 
ing too  much  of  human  nature,  under  such  circum- 
stances, to  expect  these  girls  to  be  strictly  "virtuous." 


192        AN   AMERICAN    JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

The  wages  of  a  couturiere,  a  girl  who  works  on  ladies' 
dresses,  seldom  exceeds  twelve  francs  a  week,  for 
twelve  hours'  labor  a  day,  and  the  general  rate  of  pay 
for  sewing-girls  is  from  ten  to  fifteen  francs  a  week. 
On  this  a  young  girl  can  manage,  by  rigid  economy, 
to  keep  body  and  soul  together  by  living  in  some 
dreary,  little,  sunless  garret,  and  eating  a  two-sou  roll 
and  drinking  a  cup  of  coffee  for  breakfast,  and  mak- 
ing a  dinner  from  a  bowl  of  soup  and  a  dish  of  boiled 
meat  at  a  cheap  cook-shop.  But  every  thing,  eatable, 
drinkable,  and  wearable,  is  very  expensive  in  Paris 
now,  and  working-women  can  not  save  enough  out  of 
their  small  pay  to  meet  the  needful  demands  for  the 
simplest  styles  of  dress  ;  and  the  working-classes  of 
Paris  dress  with  simplicity,  but  in  excellent  taste,  and 
it  is  marvellous  how  nicely  they  manage  the  com- 
monest materials. 

Possibly  many,  certainly  most,  of  the  mothers 
of  the  children  in  the  foundling  hospital,  arrive  in 
Paris  from  their  country  homes  in  search  of  work, 
intending  to  be  virtuous.  Could  the  story  of  their 
struggles  through  want,  grim  hunger,  and  cheerless 
cold  be  truthfully  portrayed,  the  most  rigid  moralist 
might  find  palliation  for  their  errors.  But  it  is  with 
the  result,  not  the  causes,  of  these  lapses  from  virtue 
that  we  have  to  do  at  present. 

It  is  evident  that  moral  tracts,  with  gifts  of  flannel 


THE    FOUNDLING   HOSPITAL   OF    PARIS.         .198 

and  other  small  necessaries,  even  if  supplied  in  suffi- 
cient quantities,  will  not  meet  the  requirements  of 
any  appreciable  number  of  mothers  who  have  no 
claim,  sanctioned  alike  by  law  and  religion,  on  the 
fathers  of  their  offspring ;  it  is  simply  a  question  of 
insufficiency  of  the  bare  necessaries  of  life  to  support 
a  family  that  leads  to  many  cases  of  infanticide.  It  is 
not  so  much  any  shame  or  disgrace  attaching  to  the 
birth  of  children  under  such  circumstances  that  hur- 
ries mothers  into  the  fearful  crime  of  child-murder, 
but  the  grim  horror  of  a  lingering  death  by  starv- 
ation staring  them  in  the  face.  But  the  concealment 
of  the  birth  by  infanticide  is  undoubtedly  a  motive 
to  the  crime  in  many  instances.  In  fact  it  has  been 
found  in  France  that,  since  the  suppression  of  the 
tours,  or  turning-boxes,  by  means  of  which  the  aban- 
donment of  the  child  was  rendered  much  easier  than 
it  is  at  present,  the  crime  of  infanticide  has  greatly 
increased  in  the  departments  where  the  boxes  have 
been  removed,  the  average  annual  number  of  cases 
having  risen  from  104  to  196.  The  question  of  re- 
storing the  tour  in  the  Paris  hospital,  and  in  the  oth- 
ers where  it  has  been  abolished,  is  seriously  discussed, 
and  public  opinion  throughout  France  is  decidedly 
in  favor  of  it.  The  number  of  foundling  hospitals  in 
France  is  one  hundred  and  fifty-two. 

By  the  law  of  France,  an  illegitimate  child  can  bo 

9 


194       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

legitimatized  by  the  simple  acknowledgment  of  the 
father,  made,  of  course,  in  due  legal  form.  This  is 
indeed  frequently  done.  The  statistics  of  the  year 
1864  (the  latest  which  have  been  published)  exhibit 
the  following  facts  : 

The  population  of  Paris  is  1,696,000 ;  the  births 
amounted  to  53,863  ;  of  these,  38,997  were  legitimate, 
14,866  illegitimate;  and,  of  the  latter,  3600  were 
"  recognized  "  by  their  fathers. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A   CHAMBER   OF   HORRORS. 

The  Dissecting  rooms  at  Clamart. — The  "Salle  de  Reception." — The 
"  Subjects." — Food  for  Meditation. 

iiTTTlLL  you  make  a  day  of  horrors  of  it?"  asked 
"  *  my  medical  friend  as  we  were  sitting  vis-a-vis. 
over  a  filet  aux  champignons  and  a  steaming  cup  of 
rich  coffee ;  "  will  you  make  a  day  of  horrors  of  it,  and 
come  with  me  to  the  dissecting-rooms,  where  you  will 
see  about  a  hundred  '  subjects  ?' '  "  I'll  see  about  it," 
I  answered,  "and  in  the  mean  time  let  us  drop  the 
'subject'  until  we  have  discussed  this  breakfast."  So 
we  conversed  upon  more  cheerful  topics  until  we  had 
finished,  when  I  concluded  that,  having  commenced, 
I  would  make  "a  day  of  horrors"  of  it,  and  we  start- 
ed for  Clamart,  the  principal  dissecting-place  of  Paris. 
The  building,  which  was  formerly  a  hospital,  is  appro- 
priately located  upon  the  site  of  an  ancient  burial- 
ground,  and  the  entrance  to  it  is  laid  out  in  the  form 
of  a  garden.  Passing  through  this,  we  entered  one 
of  the  wards,  and  my  eye  suddenly  fell  upon  a  scene 
the  remembrance  of  which  might  well  haunt  a  man 
in  his  dying  hour! 

The  ward  was  about  fifty  feel  in  length,  by  twent\ 


196        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

in  width,  and,  upon  either  side,  were  twelve  zinc  dis- 
secting-tables,  on  each  of  which  lay  a  dead  human 
body,  or  such  portion  of  it  as  the  knife  of  the  student 
had  left.  They  were  lying  in  all  positions,  and  were 
in  different  stages  of  decay.  Here  was  what  had  been 
an  aged,  gray-haired  woman,  stretched  on  her  back, 
her  arms  crossed  upon  her  shrivelled  breast,  and  her 
sightless  eyes  wide  open  and  staring !  On  the  adjoin- 
ing table  were  a  head  and  trunk,  and  next  to  it  was  a 
pair  of  legs,  with  the  muscles  laid  bare,  and  the  flesh 
green  with  rapidly  increasing  mortification.  A  poor 
little  boy's  body,  with  the  skull  sawed  open  and  the 
brain  bared,  lay  upon  one  of  the  tables;  and  on  an- 
other seven  or  eight  cadavres,  divided  into  parts,  were 
piled  up,  or  rather  tumbled  together  promiscuously, 
like  so  many  dead  rats  in  a  gutter.  In  one  body  the 
abdomen  was  laid  open  and  the  abdominal  viscera 
were  exposed  to  view,  while  in  another  the  flesh  upon 
one  side  of  the  face  was  taken  off,  and  the  facial  mus- 
cles and  nerves  exhibited.  Some  were  so  mutilated 
that  scarcely  a  vestige  of  humanity  could  be  recog- 
nized in  their  hacked  limbs  and  ghastly  faces.  A 
sickly,  charnel-like  smell  pervaded  the  room,  not  im- 
proved by  the  odor  of  tobacco,  which  most  of  the  stu- 
dents engaged  in  dissecting  were  smoking  from  very 
ancient  pipes.  At  the  tables,  patiently  bending  over 
the  bodies,  or  parts  of  bodies,  before  them,  sat  the  stu- 


THE   DISSECTING-ROOMS   AT   CLAMART.  197 

dents — generally  young  men— with  their  knives  in 
their  hands,  tracing  up  nerves,  muscles,  and  arteries, 
or  carefully  examining  the  location  of  the  different 
organs.  Upon  entering  the  wards,  they  change  their 
coats  for  blue  blouses  and  white  aprons,  and  each  one 
keeps  constantly  by  his  side  a  little  piece  of  nitrate 
of  silver,  with  which  to  immediately  cauterize  any  cut 
which  he  might  accidentally  give  himself;  as  these 
are  always  poisonous,  and  often  very  dangerous. 
Ranged  along  the  middle  of  the  aisle  were  a  number 
of  tubs  for  the  reception  of  the  pieces  cut  off. 

The  students  usually  "  work  "  on  a  subject  five  or 
six  days  without  submitting  it  to  any  preparation ; 
but  those  wishing  to  make  long  and  patient  dissec- 
tions inject  the  arteries  and  veins  with  a  solution  of 
chloride  of  sodium,  which  preserves  the  bodies  for  a 
long  time  without  decay.  There  are  four  of  these 
rooms,  all  presenting  the  same  general  features ;  and 
after  passing  through  them,  we  entered  what  the  stu- 
dents facetiously  call  the  "  Salle  de  Reception,"  where 
the  bodies  are  received  each  day,  and  where  all  as- 
semble at  two  o'clock  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
choice  of  "  subjects."  Here  was,  if  possible,  a  more 
revolting  sight  than  the  other.  Thirty  or  forty  na- 
ked dead  bodies,  males  and  females,  old  and  young, 
were  laid  indiscriminately  side  by  side  like  logs  of 
wood,  nnd  elbowing  each  other;  and  as  many  students 


198       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

weie  examining  them,  and  noisily  discussing  their 
merits  and  disputing  their  choice.  One  among  them 
was  what  remained  of  a  beautiful  young  girl — beauti- 
ful still  in  death — and,  in  this  horrid  companionship, 
clean-limbed  and  fresh-looking,  with  a  fine  brown,  full 
face,  and  large  black  eyes,  wide  open  and  staring  on 
vacancy.  She  could  not  have  been  more  than  seven- 
teen or  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  could  not  have 
died  of  any  prolonged  disease,  for  she  looked  as 
though  it  needed  but  a  breath  to  make  that  finely- 
developed  bosom  heave  with  the  impulses  of  life 
again.  She  fell  to  the  lot  of  my  medical  friend,  and 
three  daj^s  afterward  he  told  me  he  had  cut  her  all  to 
pieces. 

Poor,  poor  Humanity !  These  stiff,  stark,  and  star- 
ing bodies,  and  those  other  mutilated  forms  on  the 
tables,  but  a  few  days  since  were  the  tenant-houses  of 
human  souls,  and  obeyed  the  direction  of  human  will, 
and  moved  in  obedience  to  hope  and  aspiration  ;  and 
now  here  they  are,  waiting  to  be  mangled  for  the 
benefit  of  science.  What  food  here  for  the  moralist, 
as  well  as  the  medical  student!  Poor,  poor  Humanitj^ ! 
Is  this  all  that  remains  of  it?  So  I  could  not  help  so- 
liloquizing; and  then  that  beautiful  verse  of  Horace 
Smith,  the  closing  one  of  his  "Address  to  the  Egyp- 
tian Mummy,"  which  I  had  not  thought  of  since  my 
school-days,  involuntarily  came  to  me: 


THE    DISSECTING-ROOMS   AT   CLAM  ART.  199 

"Why  should  this  worthless  tegument  endure, 
If  its  undying  guest  be  lost  forever  ? 
Oh,  let  us  keep  the  soul  embalmed  and  pure 
In  living  virtues,  that  when  both  shall  sever. 
Although  corruption  shall  the  frame  consume, 
The  immortal  spirit  in  the  skies  may  bloom  !" 

The  "subjects"  in  the  dissecting-rooms  are  fur- 
nished principally  from  the  hospitals.  Patients  who 
die  there  are  kept  twenty-four  hours,  and  if  not  claim- 
ed in  that  time  by  some  friend  or  relative,  are  mark- 
ed for  the  dissecting-rooms.  About  four  thousand 
bodies  are  thus  annually  appropriated,  the  remains  of 
which,  after  the  student  has  completed  his  investiga- 
tions, are  deposited  in  a  corner  specially  appropriated 
to  the  purpose  in  the  cemetery  of  Mont  Parnasse. 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

THE    "  SPE* CIALITE   DE   PUMPKIN   PIE." 
A  Mystery  to  the  uninitiated.—"  Thin  Magpie  "  an  American  Dish. 

IT  is  said  that  men  who  have  been  held  as  prison 
ers  among  savages  have  forgotten,  in  the  course 
of  time,  their  mother-tongue.  Human  nature  is  so 
weak  that,  under  certain  trying  circumstances  and 
temptations,  religion  and  country  have  been  denied. 
A  mother  may  forget  the  babe  she  nourished ;  the 
din  and  bustle  in  the  noisy  highways  of  life  may 
drown  in  the  memory  of  the  full-grown  man  the  bab- 
bling music  of  the  brook  which  flowed,  in  his  boy- 
hood, by  the  school-house  on  the  woody  hillside.  All 
these  may  be,  and  more ;  but  there  are  two  things  in 
this  changing  world  which,  once  loved,  can  never  be 
detested  while  life  lasts — a  taste  of  which,  once  ac- 
quired, even  though  in  earliest  youth,  nothing  can 
destroy  or  vitiate,  but  which  remains  ever  strong  and 
fresh  to  the  last.  These  two  symbols  of  constancy 
and  undying  faith  are  Buckwheat  Cakes  and  Pump- 
kin Pie. 

There  is  a  queer  little  place  in  one  of  the  quiet 


THE    "SPECIALITE    DE    PUMPKIN    PIE.'"  201 

streets  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Madeleine,  which  has 
become  a  shrine  to  which  few  Americans  coming  to 
Paris  fail  to  make  a  pilgrimage,  and,  having  once 
crossed  the  threshold,  there  is  a  charm  about  the  in- 
terior and  its  contents  which  irresistibly  attracts  them 
often  back  to  it  during  their  sojourn.  This  is  the  es- 
tablishment of  Madame  Busque,  and  here  is  her  card, 
a  curiosity  in  its  way  which  would  very  seriously  puz- 
zle a  foreigner  other  than  one  of  English  extraction. 


AUX    AMERICAINS, 

SPECIALITE  DE  PUMPKIN  PIE. 

JMME.   BUSQUE 

40  RUE  GODOT-DE-MAUROI,  40 

Pres  la  Madeleine, 

PARIS. 


Over  the  door  is  the  American  coat -of- arms,  the 
eagle  and  the  arrows;  and  if  the  sight  of  the  emblem 
of  his  country  fails  to  send  the  blood  coursing  quick- 
er through  the  veins  of  the  American  who  sees  it, 
the  window  is  filled  with  articles  the  first  glance  at 
which  will  certainly  have  this  effect.  These  are 
pumpkin  and  mince  and  apple  pies,  and  gingerbread 
and  doughnuts,  all  looking  particularly  nice  and 
tempting.  On  the  glass-door  was  originally  painted, 
with  an  apparent  consciousness  of  its  literal  truth, 
those  cabalistic  words,  "  English  spoken  ;"    but  the 

Madame,  who  is  not  very  "strong"  in  her  English, 

9* 


202        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

and  wlio  evidently  desires  to  do  nothing  under  a  false 
pretense,  has  modified  this  by  having  painted  be- 
neath it  in  brackets  "  a  little,"  so  that  the  visitor 
who  speaks  no  French  need  not  be  disappointed  as  to 
the  amount  or  purity  of  his  native  language  which 
he  will  hear.  At  present,  however,  both  the  Madame 
and  "Charlie"  are  tolerably  well  up  in  the  language, 
and  their  stock  is  inexhaustible  upon  any  thing  re- 
lating to  buckwheat  cakes  or  pumpkin  pies. 

The  establishment  is  a  mystery  and  a  wonderment 
to  the  uninitiated,  who  frequently  stop  and  gaze  with 
a  certain  sort  of  awe  into  the  window.  What  these 
queer-looking  things  are,  they  can  have  no  idea,  and 
then  the  cabalistic  English  words  upon  the  window 
add  to  the  bewilderment.  There  are  two  of  these, 
however,  which  they  can  fully  understand:  "mince" 
in  French  means  "  thin,"  and  "  pie  "  is  the  name  of  a 
species  of  bird  ;  and  so  their  curiosity  is  in  part  satis- 
fied at  ascertaining  the  fact  that  one  of  the  American 
"specialities"  is  "thin  magpie." 

Most  of  our  countrymen  who  visit  Paris  find  out 
now  the  establishment  of  Madame  Busque.  Her  reg- 
ister of  visitors  for  the  past  ten  years  is  a  literary  cu- 
riosity which  should  not  be  overlooked.  Here  are 
the  names  of  ministers  and  ex-ministers  and  consuls, 
members  of  Congress,  artists,  authors,  poets,  journal- 
ists, and  commoners. 


TUE    "  SPECIALITY    DE    PUMPKIN    FIE."  208 

Such  is  the  "  Specialite  de  Pumpkin  Pie."  Long- 
may  it  flourish,  and  long  may  good  Madame  Busque 
preside  over  its  destinies.  It  is  realty  a  pleasant  little 
oasis  in  the  great  desert  of  Paris,  and  no  American 
who  loves  his  country  and  her  institutions,  visiting 
the  world's  capital,  should  neglect  to  renew  his  devo- 
tion to  them  b^v  going  there  and  eating  his  fill. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

WHAT   AND   HOW   MUCH   THE   PARISIANS   DRINK. 

Drunkenness. — Wine-drinking. —  "  The  Octroi  "  Duty.  —  Extensive 
Establishments. — Parisian  Cafe's. — American  Drinks. — Marchands 
de  Vin. — Absinthe-drinking. — "  A  little  Absinthe,  just  to  give  an 
Appetite. " — Composition  of  Absinthe,  and  its  fearful  Effects. 

r  |\EE  people  of  Paris,  numbering  1,700,000,  con- 
-■-  sume  annually  about  forty-four  millions  of  gal- 
lons of  wine  of  all  descriptions ;  of  alcohol  and  alco- 
holic liquors,  about  one  million  seven  hundred  and 
sixty  thousand  gallons ;  of  cider,  four  hundred  and 
forty  thousand  gallons ;  and  of  beer,  six  millions  six 
hundred  and  sixty  thousand  gallons ;  which  is  near- 
ly twenty-eight  gallons  of  wine,  beer,  and  spirits 
combined,  annually  consumed  by  each  man,  wom- 
an, and  child  within  the  city  limits.  The  consump- 
tion of  strong  liquors  has  been  gradually  increasing 
for  some  years  past,  while  that  of  wine  has  met 
with  a  proportionate  diminution,  and  drunkenness, 
with  all  its  attendant  evils,  follows  in  the  track.  It 
is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  there  is  no  in- 
toxication in  the  wine-growing  countries  of  Europe ; 
although  my  observations  correspond  with  those  of 
other  travellers  who  state  that,  as  a  rule,  the  abuse  of 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS   DRINK.  205 

liquors  is  confined  almost  entirely  to  the  cities  and 
larger  towns,  certain  it  is  that  Paris  is  by  no  means 
exempt  from  this  vice,  which,  however,  does  not  ex- 
hibit its  evil  effects  in  any  thing  like  the  glaring  col- 
ors that  it  does  in  London  and  the  American  cities. 
As  a  rule,  also,  drunkenness  is  confined  to  the  lower 
classes  of  the  people.  A  soldier  will  drink  as  long  as 
his  ability  to  pay,  or  the  good-nature  of  the  keeper 
of  the  cabaret  lasts,  and  one  may  often  see  the  rep- 
resentatives of  the  brave  army  of  France  reeling 
through  the  streets  of  Paris.  The  chijfonniers,  or  rag- 
pickers, seem  to  consider  it  a  religious  duty  to  get 
drunk  daily,  and  workmen  who  make  two  half  holi- 
days on  Sunday  and  Monday  afternoons  often  go 
drunk  to  bed  on  both  these  occasions. 

Still,  with  the  acknowledgment  of  the  existence 
of  inebriety  in  Paris  to  a  considerable  extent,  it  is 
safe  to  say  that  one  will  not  see  as  many  drunken 
men  in  the  streets  in  a  month  as  he  will  in  a  day  in 
London,  or  a  week  in  New  York. 

Wine,  for  all  who  can  afford  it,  is  the  universal 
drink  at  breakfast  and  dinner;  while  the  dusty  bot- 
tles of  Chateau  Margaux  and  St.  Estephe  are  opened 
at  the  tables  of  the  rich,  the  mechanic,  or  the  labor- 
ing man  and  his  family,  add  cheer  to  their  homely 
meal  by  a  litre  of  the  cheap  wine  of  Burgundy,  which 
may  be  purchased  for  twolvc  pons  (which   is  at  tin' 


206       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

rate  of  about  half  a  crown  a  gallon)  at  the  wine-mer- 
chants' shops,  which  are  found  on  nearly  every  cor- 
ner. Workmen  may  often  make  their  noonday  meal 
with  two  sous'  worth  of  bread,  which  they  take  to  the 
nearest  wine-shop,  where  for  five  or  six  sous  more 
a  pint  of  wine  can  be  purchased,  and  with  which  the 
system  is  strengthened  and  slightly  exhilarated.  The 
cost  of  wine  in  Paris  is  materially  augmented  by  the 
octroi,  or  city  duty,  which  is  charged  upon  all  eata- 
bles and  drinkables  which  enter  the  gates,  and  which 
yields  to  the  city  an  annual  revenue  of  about  seven- 
ty-five millions  of  francs.  At  each  one  of  the  gates 
of  Paris  is  a  little  stone  building,  the  Octroi  Office, 
where  night  and  day  the  collectors  of  the  city  reve- 
nue are  stationed,  and  where  duties  are  levied  at  the 
following  rates :  wine  in  wood,  per  hectolitre  of  22 
gallons,  18  francs ;  in  bottle,  25  francs ;  brandy  and 
spirits,  liqueurs,  brandied  fruits,  and  scented  spirits,  23 
francs  50  centimes  ;  perry  and  cider,  7  francs  80  cen- 
times; beer  brought  to  Paris,  3  francs  80  centimes; 
beer  brewed  in  Paris,  2  francs  82  centimes. 

Every  cart  passing  the  gate  is  examined,  every 
omnibus  coming  from  without  the  city  is  looked  into, 
as  is  every  private  or  public  carriage,  and  the  lid  of 
every  basket  carried  on  the  arm  is  lifted  up  by  the 
sharp-eyed  collector ;  and  if  an  unfortunate  chicken 
or  half  a- dozen  of  eggs  are  found  inside,  the  duty  is 


WHAT   THE    PARISIANS    DRINK.  207 

rigidly  exacted.  Even  the  person  is  not  exempt  from 
search  ;  and  since  the  introduction  of  the  present  fash- 
ion of  extended  skirts,  cases  have  not  unfrequently 
been  brought  to  light  in  which  females  have  been 
caught  in  the  act  of  attempting  to  smuggle  dutiable 
articles  strung  among  the  folds  of  their  crinolines. 

The  considerable  augmentation  of  the  value  of  ar- 
ticles of  food  and  drink,  caused  by  the  city  duty,  led 
to  the  establishment  of  immense  restaurants  and  wine- 
shops just  outside  the  ancient  barrier  walls,  and  which 
were  resorted  to  by  working-people,  many  of  whom 
lived  in  the  city.  On  Sunday,  particularly  in  sum- 
mer, these  places  were  thronged,  and  on  this  day 
many  of  the  citizens  of  Paris  went  out  to  the  better 
class  of  restaurants  to  dine,  and  every  grisette  expect- 
ed her  lover  to  pay  for  a  dinner  there.  Two  of  these 
establishments,  the  wine-shop  of  the  Petit  Reimport- 
neau,  at  the  Barribre  de  Clichy,  and  the  Restaiavn/ 
Richefeu,  at  the  Barnbre  du  Maine,  used  to  furnish  on 
Sundays  drink  and  food  to  about  twenty-five  thou- 
sand people.  This  last  is  an  immense  building  five 
stories  in  height,  each  floor  of  which  is  a  spacious 
room  filled  with  tables,  where  luncheon,  with  half  a 
bottle  of  wine,  is  served  up  for  fifteen  sous. 

A  population  of  more  than  three  hundred  thou- 
sand people,  principally  of  the  poorer  class,  grew  up 
between  tin1  barrier  wall  and  the  fortifications.     Bui 


208       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST    IN    EUROPE. 

on  the  first  of  January,  1859,  the  city  limits  were  ex- 
tended to  the  fortifications  themselves,  which  are  at 
such  a  distance  from  the  heart  of  Paris  that  it  will 
be  many  years  ere  such  gay  and  lively  scenes  will  be 
exhibited  around  them  as  formed,  in  bygone  years, 
the  great  attractions  of  the  ancient  barriers. 

A  very  large  portion  of  the  male  population  of 
Paris  spend  their  time  in  the  caffa,  many  of  which  are 
elegantly  furnished,  and  where,  in  addition  to  the  de- 
licious black  coffee,  other  attractions  are  offered  in 
the  way  of  dominos,  chess,  and  cards.  Thousands  of 
Parisians  go  every  morning  to  the  cafe,  where  the 
first  breakfast,  consisting  of  a  large  cup  of  coffee  and 
a  single  roll,  is  taken,  and  the  newspapers  read.  At 
twelve  or  one  o'clock  the  true  breakfast,  the  dejeuner 
d  la  fourchette,  is  eaten,  and  the  time  then  employed 
till  dinner,  after  which  the  true  Parisian  immediately 
proceeds  to  his  cafe  again,  where  he  reads  the  evening 
journals  over  a  cup  of  strong  black  coffee,  taken  with 
a  small  glass  of  brandy,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
evening  is  spent  in  conversation  or  games.  But  little 
strong  liquor  is  drunk  in  the  cafes,  except  with  coffee, 
over  a  cup  of  which  a  Parisian  will  often  sit  for  an 
entire  evening,  as  he  will  also  over  such  mild  bever- 
ages as  orgeat  and  water,  or  a  glass  of  current  or  rasp- 
berry syrup,  or  even  that  modest,  calming,  and  cer- 
tainly unstimulating  drink,  a  glass  of  sugar  and  wa- 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS   DRINK.  209 

ter.  Attempts  have  been  made  from  time  to  time 
by  hardy  innovators  to  introduce  some  of  the  thou- 
sand and  one  "American  drinks"  into  the  Parisian 
cafes  ;  but  with  the  exception  of  the  "  sherry  cobbler," 
which  may  be  obtained  at  some  of  them,  and  a  hot 
decoction  of  rum,  sugar,  water,  and  lemon,  which  is 
universally  known  as  "  Grog  Americain,"  none  of 
these  mixtures  have  been  able  to  obtain  a  foothold 
among  the  Parisians,  whose  stomachs  have  not  jet 
been  rendered  sufficiently  fireproof  to  enable  them  to 
take  such  abominations  as  "brandy  cocktails"  and 
"smashes."  For  the  accommodation  of  our  transat- 
lantic cousins,  however,  who,  even  in  a  foreign  land, 
still  cling  to  the  institutions  of  their  country,  and  who 
must  have  their  "  bitters  "  before  or  after  breakfast 
and  dinner,  and  around  whom  linger  fond  memories 
of  "  mint-juleps,"  "milk-punches,"  and  "egg-nogs," 
for  these,  and  for  such  benighted  foreigners  as  desire 
to  be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  these  compounds, 
two  or  three  cafes  in  Paris  now  furnish  "American 
drinks." 

At  the  corner  shops  of  the  wine-sellers  the  lower 
classes  of  the  Parisian  people  go  to  drink.  In  these 
there  are  no  opportunities  for  being  seated  as  in  the 
cafes,  but  the  drink  is  taken  at  the  bar.  Here  wine  is 
sold  at  two  and  three  sous  a  glass,  as  well  as  a  fiery 
sort  of  brandy  distilled  from  beet-root,  and  known  to 


210       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

the  imbibers  under  the  slang  name  of  cassepoitrine 
(literally,  break-breast),  is  sold  at  one,  two,  and  three 
sous  the  small  glass.  Many  of  the  wine-sellers  fur- 
nish meals,  principally  to  laborers,  who  may  be  seen 
at  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  they  quit  work 
on  the  neighboring  buildings  for  an  hour,  going  to 
these  places  for  breakfast,  each  with  two  sous'  worth 
of  bread,  purchased  at  the  nearest  baker's,  under  his 
arm. 

One  of  the  most  popular,  and  in  fact  almost  a  uni- 
versal beverage  in  Paris,  is  absinthe.  In  front  of  the 
splendid  cafes  on  the  Boulevards,  on  any  fine  after- 
noon between  three  and  five  o'clock,  thousands  of  per- 
sons may  be  seen  sitting,  mixing  and  sipping  this 
green  liquor,  which  is  taken  ostensibly  as  an  appetizer 
before  dinner.  Workmen  drink  it  in  the  low  corner 
shops  of  the  marchands  de  vin.  In  various  parts  of 
the  city  are  establishments  which  are  crowded  from 
morning  till  night,  in  which  the  sale  of  absinthe  is 
made  a  speciality  and  where  little  else  is  drunk.  La- 
dies even  of  high  families  are  reported  to  have  yielded 
to  its  fascinations.  It  has  been  exported,  and  is  used 
to  an  enormous  extent  in  all  the  French  colonies,  ex- 
cept in  Tahiti,  where  its  introduction  has  been  pro- 
hibited, and  statistics  exhibit  the  fact  that  immense 
quantities  of  it  are  annually  sent  to  the  United  States. 
It  may  not,  therefore,  be  uninteresting  to  those  who 


WHAT   THE    PARISIANS    DRINK.  211 

are  in  the  habit  of  "taking  a  little  absinthe  before 
dinner  just  to  give  them  an  appetite,"  to  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  the  composition  and  effects  of  this  se- 
ductive liquor,  which,  from  the  almost  irresistible 
power  which  it  wields  over  its  victims,  as  well  as  from 
the  similarity  of  its  effects,  and  the  general  and  in- 
creasing popularity  it  has  acquired,  may  not  improp- 
erly be  called  "  The  Opium  of  the  West." 

Medical  science  has  turned  its  attention  to  the  ef- 
fects of  this  poisonous  compound,  and  in  a  paper  re- 
cently submitted  to  the  Academy  of  Medicine  by  M. 
Motet,  the  whole  subject  is  treated  in  a  manner  which 
shows  that  he  has  carefully  examined  it.  He  says 
that  the  habitual  use  of  absinthe  produces  a  series  of 
pathological  manifestations  extremely  grave,  and  dif- 
fering essentially  from  the  effects  produced  by  other 
alcoholic  drinks ;  and  although  the  effects  of  large 
doses,  or  of  the  habitual  use  of  this  liquor,  are  now 
well  known,  the  drinker  upon  whom  the  habit  of 
using  it  has  been  fastened  returns  to  it  in  obedience 
to  an  almost  irresistible  fascination  while  aware  that 
it  is  destroying  him. 

Body  and  mind  crumble  alike  under  the  influence 
of  this  terrible  liquor.  It  destroys  all  the  finer  feel- 
ings and  more  delicate  sensibilities  of  human  nature ; 
it  absorbs  all  the  faculties,  burns  and  corrodes  the 
body,  extinguishes  the  memory,  and  annihilates  the 


212        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

senses.  Of  the  best  constituted  man,  either  physical- 
ly or  intellectually,  its  constant  use  will,  sooner  or 
later,  make  a  skeleton,  an  animal — a  brute. 

"Absinthe"  which  simply  means  "wormwood,"  is 
made  by  the  distillation  of  a  number  of  plants — the 
tops  of  wormwood,  flag-root,  anise-seed,  angelica- 
root,  leaves  of  littany  {origanum  dictamuus)  and  sweet 
marjoram.  All  these  are  macerated,  and  placed  in 
alcohol  of  very  high  proof,  and  permitted  to  remain 
eight  days,  when  the  mixture  is  distilled,  half  an 
ounce  of  the  essential  oil  of  anise  being  added  to  each 
three  gallons.  The  first  care  after  the  distillation  is 
to  see  whether  the  liquor  is  of  a  good  color,  and 
whether  it  will  "  whiten"  well;  and  should  it-be  found 
lacking  in  these  essential  points,  it  is  brought  up  to 
the  proper  standard  with  indigo,  tincture  of  curcuma, 
hyssop,  nettles,  and  sulphate  of  copper  (the  ordinary 
"  blue  vitriol "). 

Absinthe,  however,  requires  none  of  these  adulter- 
ations to  constitute  it  a  positive  poison.  Composed 
of  plants  of  highly  exciting  qualities,  united  with  the 
strongest  alcohol,  it  acts  directly  upon  the  nervous 
system,  having  a  much  more  speedy  and  positive  ef- 
fect than  other  alcoholic  liquors.  Indeed,  one  of  the 
principal  charms  which  make  the  vile  compound  so 
popular,  is  the  almost  immediate  delightfully  stim- 
ulating effect  it  has  upon  the  brain.     In  the  process 


WHAT   THE    PARISIANS    DRINK.  213 

of  distillation,  the  plants  furnish  several  volatile  oils, 
which  are  among  the  most  virulent  poisons.  Prob- 
ably few  persons,  in  "mixing"  their  absinthe  (which 
among  professional  drinkers  is  considered  a  great  art), 
have  ever  stopped  to  consider  the  cause  of  the  "  whit- 
ening" or  "clouding,"  or  ever  thought  that  the  better 
the  liquor  "  mixes,"  the  more  powerfully  poisonous  it 
is.  The  white  deposit  which,  in  precipitating,  renders 
it  turbid,  comes  from  the  essential  oils,  which  are  held 
in  solution  by  alcohol,  but  which  are  insoluble  in 
water  or  weak  spirits. 

The  effects  of  the  constant  use  of  this  villainous 
liquor,  which  a  friend  once  said  "  is  kept  in  glass  bot- 
tles simply  because  it  would  eat  through  the  staves  of 
any  ordinary  barrel  in  fifteen  minutes,"  are  summed 
up  in  a  sentence  by  Dr.  Motet  as  a  "  general  poisoning 
of  the  system,  which  terminates  in  insanity  and  death." 
Among  the  symptoms  which  precede  the  final  result 
are  uncertainty  and  indecision  of  the  muscular  S}Tstcm, 
easily  recognized  by  contractions  and  trembling  of 
the  fore-arm,  of  the  hand,  and  the  inferior  members. 
Strange  sensations  are  observed,  such  as  tingling  and 
[■ricking  of  the  skin,  heaviness  of  the  limbs  and  numb- 
ness, the  hand  seizing  and  as  suddenly  letting  go  any 
object  within  its  reach.  The  patients  are  weak  in 
the  legs,  and,  in  standing,  require  something  to  lean 
against;  the  knees  tremble  and  bend;  a  general  air 


214       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

of  sadness  and  hebetude  settles  upon  the  features ;  the 
lips,  the  tongue,  and  the  muscles  of  the  face  are  trem- 
ulous ;  the  eye  is  sunken  and  sorrowful ;  the  skin  as- 
sumes a  yellowish  hue ;  dyspepsia  and  wasting  away 
follow;  the  mucous  membrane  becomes  of  a  violet 
color;  the  hair  comes  out,  and  the  entire  framework 
of  the  man  falls  into  a  premature  old  age  and  dilapi- 
dation. 

Such  are  the  bodily  symptoms  of  absinthe  poison ; 
and  the  mental  troubles  progress  concurrently  with 
the  disorcfers  of  the  muscular  system.  Owing  to 
the  progress  of  the  disease  of  the  brain,  the  sleep  of 
the  patient  is  disturbed  ;  he  has  terrible  dreams  and 
nightmares,  and  sudden  wakings,  as  though  he  had 
been  shot  from  the  mouth  of  a  cannon  ;  he  is  troubled 
with  hallucinations,  illusions,  blinding  of  the  eyes,  and 
hypochondria;  exhibits  a  very  marked  embarrassment 
and  dwelling  upon  words  when  speaking,  and  a  con- 
stantly decreasing  strength  of  intellect.  Such  is,  in  a 
few  words,  the  sad  cortege  of  symptoms  presented  by 
the  victims  of  the  terrible  absinthe  poison ;  a  cortege 
which  only  precedes  another  one  following  them  to 
the  grave. 

Nothing,  says  Dr.  Motet,  can  arrest  the  progress  of 
the  brain  disease.  Sometimes  the  symptoms  will  be 
more  favorable  for  a  longer  or  shorter1  period,  but  the 
respite  must  not  be  considered  as  a  sign  of  approach- 


WHAT   THE   PARISIANS   DRINK.  215 

ing  cure ;  and,  a  little  sooner  or  a  little  later,  death 
stalks  in,  in  the  midst  of  epileptic  attacks,  at  a  time 
when  there  is  scarcely  any  human  intelligence  remain- 
ing— when  the  animal  alone  exists,  and  in  a  state  of 
degradation  of  which  no  description  can  convey  an 
adequate  idea. 

This  is  certainly  not  a  cheerful  picture  to  contem- 
plate, nor  is  it  agreeable  to  think  that  this  is  a  fate 
in  store  for  those  thousands  of  cheerful,  healthy-look- 
ing men,  young  and  middle-aged,  who  daily  sip  their 
absinthe  on  the  Boulevards.  Death  and  insanity,  the 
result  of  its  habitual  use,  are  very  common  in  Paris ; 
and  on  the  tombstones  of  not  a  few  of  the  prominent 
men  in  the  literary  and  artistic  world  whose  lights 
have  gone  out  during  the  past  ten  years,  might  with 
truth  be  written,  "died  of  absinthe." 

So  deleterious  have  been  the  effects  of  this  liquor 
that  the  French  Government  has  prohibited  its  use 
in  the  army  and  navy,  even  to  the  officers,  and  an 
attempt  is  now  being  made  to  extend  the  same  re- 
striction to  the  other  colonies  which  has  been  made 
in  regard  to  Tahiti.  And  yet,  with  all  these  -terrible 
facts  brought  to  light,  it  is  by  no  means  probable  that 
the  use  of  this  murderous  beverage  is  decreasing. 
Who,  after  the  picture  above  drawn,  would  like  to 
take  a  "  little  absinthe  just  to  give  him  an  appetite?" 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  FLYING  TRIP  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

Orleans  and  "the  Maid." — Chambord. — Blois. — Amboise. — Plessis 
les  Tours. — A  curious  Village. — Houses  cut  in  the  solid  Rock. — 
Cliinon. — Angers. — The  Castle  of  Bluebeard.  —  Down  the  Loire. 
— Brittany. 

TN  the  latter  part  of  August  a  genial  companion 
-*-  and  myself  started  from  Paris,  with,  a  sufficient 
supply  of  funds  and  linen  to  last  us  a  fortnight  or 
three  weeks.  Trusting  in  our  guiding-stars  and  Mur- 
ray's Guide-book,  we  determined  to  go  first  -to  Orleans, 
and  thence  wherever  inclination  led  us,  and  railway 
trains  and  diligences  would  carry  us. 

We  found  Orleans  a  quaint  old  town  on  the  banks 
of  the  Loire,  famous  in  modern  history  as  the  spot 
where  Joan  of  Arc  raised  the  siege  which  the  English 
were  holding  upon  the  place,  and  from  which  she  drove 
the  invaders  away.  The  story  is  familiar  to  all  read- 
ers of  history  and  romance,  but  it  is  pleasant  some- 
times to  re-read  old  tales ;  and  none  is  more  interest- 
ing than  that  of  the  brave  girl  who  saved  her  King 
and  country,  and  won  for  herself  the  crown  of  mar- 
tyrdom. 

In  the  year  1429,  when  the  English  had  invaded, 


A   FLYING  TRIP    IN   THE   COUNTRY.  217 

and  were  in  actual  possession  of,  a  large  portion  of 
France,  Charles  the  Seventh,  a  weak  monarch,  was 
king.  Deeming  the  task  a  hopeless  one,  he  had  relin- 
quished the  idea  of  resisting  the  English,  and  had  re- 
tired from  the  noise  and  danger  of  war  to  his  strongly- 
fortified  castle  of  Chinon.  Here  he  found  more  pleasure 
in  the  society  of  his  beautiful  mistress,  Agnes  Sorel,  than 
upon  the  field  of  battle  or  on  the  march.  Surround- 
ed by  his  courtiers,  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  one 
day  in  Februaiy,  after  the  news  of  the  march  on  Or- 
leans by  the  English  troops,  under  the  Count  of  Salis- 
bury, had  reached  him,  to  learn  that  a  girl  of  eighteen 
years,  professing  to  be  inspired  of  God  with  knowl- 
edge, and  with  power  to  make  the  King's  army  tri- 
umph, had  arrived  at  the  Church  of  St.  Catherine  de 
Fierbois,  near  Chinon ;  that  she  was  attired  in  male 
apparel,  and  demanded  instant  audience. 

After  several  days  spent  in  consultation  with  his 
ministers,  who  declared  the  girl  insane,  the  pucelle,  on 
whose  sweet  and  youthful  face  rested  an  expression 
of  the  utmost  modesty,  but  whose  eye  seemed  lighted 
with  the  fire  of  inspiration,  appeared  in  the  hall  among 
the  gay  throng ;  and  although  she  had  never  before 
seen  the  King,  singled  him  out  from  amidst  the  crowd, 
many  of  whom  were  much  more  richly  attired  than 
he,  and  told  him  that  she  had  been  sent  by  God  to 
aid  him  and  his  kingdom,  and  that  the  King  of  Hear 

10 


218       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

en  had  told  her  that  he  must  be  crowned  at  Reims, 
and  become  the  "  lieutenant  of  the  King  of  Heaven  " — 
a  title  of  right  belonging  to  the  sovereign  of  France. 
Leading  him  aside  to  a  window,  she  easily  convinced 
him  of  her  supernatural  powers  by  telling  him  some 
of  the  inmost  secrets  of  his  heart,  which  she  declared 
her  "  voices  "  had  revealed  to  her.  Brought  the  next 
day  before  a  clerical  council  and  severely  interrogated, 
the  King  finally  decreed  to  give  her  a  command  of 
six  thousand  men,  and  to  send  her  to  raise  the  siege 
of  Orleans.  A  sword,  taken  from  the  Church  of  St. 
Catherine,  was  now  presented  her,  and  the  standard 
which  she  herself  had  designed,  and  which  bore  a  fig- 
ure of  the  Saviour  carrying  a  globe,  painted  on  a 
white  ground  strewed  with  the  fleur-de-lis,  was  placed 
in  her  hand.  Mounted  astride  a  young  and  active 
horse,  the  Maid  started  for  Orleans. 

The  English  were  then  occupying  a  fort  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  Loire  near  a  bridge  which  crossed 
it,  and  Joan  decided  that  this  post  should  be  first  at- 
tacked. The  most  skillful  of  the  French  commanders 
opposed  this,  but  "were  finally  forced  to  yield,  as  the 
soldiers,  to  whom  she  had  imparted  a  portion  of  her 
enthusiasm,  would  obey  no  other  leader.  The  bridge 
being  partly  destroyed,  they  pushed  across  the  Loire 
in  boats  and  began  the  attack  upon  the  English  fort. 
At  length,  seeing  her  countrymen  falter,  the  Maid, 


A    FLYING  TRIP   IN   THE   COUNTRY.  219 

seizing  a  scaling-ladder,  mounted  the  escalade,  when 
an  arrow  pierced  her  corslet,  and  she  fell  as  if  dead 
into  the  ditch.  Some  soldiers  carried  her  awaj,  but 
she  soon  returned  again  to  the  attack,  and,  waving 
aloft  her  magic  banner,  led  on  her  countrymen  in  a 
desperate  but  successful  assault.  The  English  leader 
was  killed,  the  fort  surrendered,  and  that  same  even- 
ing the  young  shepherdess  of  Dourremy,  whom  the 
English  in  the  morning  had  tauntingly  advised  to  "  go 
home  and  mind  her  cows,"  entered  Orleans  in  tri- 
umph from  the  bridge  which  had  been  closed  for  sev- 
eral months,  bringing  with  her  a  supply  of  provisions 
to  feed  the  half-starved  citizens. 

It  was  not  strange,  as  she  rode  through  the  streets 
of  Orleans  upon 'her  charger,  dressed  in  full  armor, 
her  countenance  brilliant  with  a  light  which  seemed 
more  of  heaven  than  earth,  that  the  famished  people 
looked  upon  her  as  an  angel  sent  for  their  relief,  and 
that  stern,  rough,  bearded  men  prostrated  themselves 
before  the  feet  of  her  horse,  and  that  women  held  up 
their  children  for  her  blessing. 

The  following  day  the  English  retreated,  and 
France  was  saved.  The  subsequent  history  of  this 
girl  is  a  disgrace  alike  to  France  and  England.  Aft- 
er following  the  king,  standing  over  him  at  his  coro- 
nation, and  leading  his  armies  successfully  against  the 
English,  she  was  at  length  taken  prisoner  at  Com- 


220       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

peigne  through  the  treachery  of  her  own  countrymen, 
conveyed  to  Eouen,  and  burnt  alive  in  the  market- 
place as  a  sorceress.  Well  may  her  countrymen  now 
raise  monuments  and  revere  the  memory  of  the  gentle, 
patriotic  girl. 

Before  breakfast  the  next  morning  we  visited  all  the 
points  of  interest  in  Orleans  connected  with  the  history 
of  the  Maid.  There  are  three  statues — one,  a  fine 
equestrian  one,  in  the  principal  square  ;  another  upon 
the  bridge,  and  the  third,  a  copy  in  bronze  of  the  statue 
now  at  Versailles,  the  work  of  the  talented  Princess 
Marie  d'Orleans,  the  daughter  of  Louis  Philippe.  The 
room  in  which  it  is  said  Joan  lodged,  when  she  entered 
the  town  from  Blois,  is  shown,  but  the  locality  is  rather 
apocryphal;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  benevolent- 
looking  old  lady  who  leads  strangers  into  it  has  an 
eye  more  to  the  franc  which  she  receives  for  her  serv- 
ices than  to  the  verification  of  history.  But  the 
spot  where  the  fort  held  by  the  English  stood  is  well 
marked,  some  remains  of  it  being  still  visible.  A  rude 
stone  cross  is  erected  there,  upon  which  is  inscribed 
"In  memory  of  Jeanne  d' Arc,  known  as  'The  Maid,' 
the  pious  heroine,  who,  on  the  8th  of  May,  1429,  in 
this  place,  saved  by  her  valor  the  city,  France,  and 
her  King." 

In  the  afternoon  we  went  to  Blois,  and  the  next 
day   visited  the  Chateau  of  Chambord,  an  imposing 


A  FLYING   TRIP   IX   THE   COUNTRY.  221 

structure  built  in  1526  by  Frauds  the  First.  It  ia 
now  the  private  property  of  the  Count  de  Chambord, 
the  son  of  the  Duchess  de  Berri,  and  the  only  male 
survivor  of  the  elder  branch  of  the  French  Bourbons, 
who,  should  they  be  recalled  to  power  during  his  life, 
would,  under  the  title  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  be  King 
of  France.  Francis  the  First,  Henry  the  Second, 
Charles  the  Ninth,  Louis  the  Fourteenth,  and  Louis 
the  Fifteenth,  all  lived  here.  In  the  first  Eevolution 
the  chateau  was  taken,' and  very  much  defaced,  the 
fleur-de-lis  which  covered  the  walls  being  beaten  out 
with  hammers.  Only  one  of  these  emblems  of  the 
Bourbon  dynasty  escaped — a  stone  lily,  six  feet  in 
height,  which  rose  above  one  of  the  towers.  This  was 
knocked  down  during  the  Revolution  of  1818,  but  the 
present  Emperor  has  permitted  it  to  be  restored,  and 
the  insignia  of  his  race  now  again  surmount  the 
tower  of  the  only  building  in  France  belonging  to  its 
last  representative. 

At  Blois  is  the  old  castle  which  for  ages  has  been 
the  residence  of  the  kings  of  France,  and  the  scene 
of  some  of  the  most  tragical  events  in  its  histoiy. 
B  ire  it  was  that  Henry  the  Third,  incited  by  his 
fiendish  mother,  Catherine  de  Medicis,  plotted  and 
perpetrated  the  murder  of  the  Duke  de  Guise,  and 
his  brother,  the  Cardinal  de  Lorraine.  The  room  in 
which  the  deed  was  done  is  shown,  as  is  also  the  ora- 


222        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

tory  at  the  side,  where  Catherine  prostrated  herself 
before  the  altar,  and  prayed  that  the  murder  might  be 
successfully  performed.  The  Castle  of  Blois  occupies 
a  frowning  position  on  the  summit  of  a  hill  overlook- 
ing the  town,  and  is  now  used  as  a  barrack.  From 
Blois  we  took  the  train  for  Amboise,  a  ride  of  a  lit- 
tle less  than  an  hour.  The  high  and  frowning  tow- 
ers of  the  Castle  of  Amboise,  which  overhang  the 
Loire,  with  its  donjons  and  oubliettes,  and  dark  cells, 
has  been  the  scene  of  some  terrible  tragedies.  The 
most  horrible  of  these  was  the  hanging  upon  its  walls 
of  twelve  hundred  Huguenot  prisoners,  arrested  in  the 
time  of  the  religious  wars  in  1560  for  their  participa- 
tion in  the  plot  known  as  the  "  Conjuration  d' Am- 
boise." The  executioners  became  wearied  with  be- 
heading their  victims,  and  so  drowned  them  in  the 
Loire.  Standing  upon  the  balcony,  it  was  scarcely 
possible  to  realize  that  all  these  horrors  had  been 
enacted  amidst  such  scenes  of  grandeur  and  beauty. 
The  old  castle  stands  on  a  lofty  rocky  height,  at  the 
foot  of  which  glides  the  sunny,  beautiful  Loire,  its 
banks  green  with  vines,  on  which  the  purple  fruit 
hung  in  rich  clusters.  Above,  the  river  winds 
among  islands,  and  ripples  laughingly  by  the  frown- 
ing old  castle.  The  castle,  though  well  cared  for,  is 
crumbling  to  ruins;  but  the  river  is  broad  and  sunny, 
and  its  banks  are  verdant  as  ever,  and  the  sky — the 


A    FLYING   TRIP   IN    THE   COUNTRY.  22o 

sky  of  this  beautiful  Tourraine — as  blue  and  clear  as 
it  was.  on  the  day  when,  beneath  it,  the  river  ran  red 
with  the  blood  of  a  thousand  martyrs. 

It  was  in  this  castle  that  Charles  the  Eighth,  at  the 
age  of  twenty-eight  years,  was  killed  while  running 
under  a  stone  door-way,  hurrying  to  his  tennis-court, 
by  hitting  his  head  against  the  top-stone,  which  had 
been  placed  inconveniently  low.  Here  it  was  that 
Abd-el-Kader,  the  .brave  and  noble  emir  of  Algiers, 
was  imprisoned  by  Louis  Philippe,  and  released  in 
1852  by  the  Emperor. 

From  Amboise  we  went  to  Tours,  a  beautiful  old 
town  on  the  Loire,  which  contains  a  fine  cathedral 
and  the  remains  of  a  church  built  by  St.  Martin  in  the 
third  century.  About  a  mile  from  the  town  is  Pies- 
sis  les  Tours,  the  favorite  residence  of  Louis  the 
Eleventh.  Little  remains  of  it  now  but  a  single  tow- 
er, and  some  extraordinary  cells  in  which  the  royal 
bigot  confined  his  prisoners,  whom  he  subjected  to  a 
novel  punishment,  called  "  enwalling."  Around  the 
walls  of  this  subterranean  dungeon  were  little  spaces, 
cut  about  two  feet  into  the  wall,  and  four  feet  high, 
and  in  one  of  these  a  prisoner  was  placed,  inclosed 
with  an  iron  grating,  through  which  he  breathed  the 
dank  air  of  the  dungeon.  In  these  living  tombs  one 
could  neither  lie  down,  nor  stand  upright,  nor  sit  in  a 
comfortable  position  ;  but  the  power  of  human  endur- 


224        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

ance  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  Cardinal  Balue 
(who  is  said  to  have  been  the  inventor  of  this  hor- 

• 

rid  system  of  punishment)  remained  in  one  of  them 
seven  years.  Near  these  dungeons  is  the  oratory 
where  the  King  passed  hours  at  a  time  in  abject 
prayer  to  the  Virgin  and  saints  for  the  cure  of  his 
complicated  maladies,  and  here  he  finally  ended  his 
miserable  existence.  "They  had  hard  hearts  in 
those  days,"  remarked  the  girl  who  showed  us  the 
remains  of  the  castle  as  she  pointed  us  out  the 
cells. 

About  four  miles  distant  from  Tours  is  the  curious 
village  of  Eochecorbon,  which  consists  of  dwellings 
cut  in  the  solid  rock  two  hundred  feet  above  its  base  ; 
the  rock  itself  being  bold  and  bluff,  they  can  only  be 
reached  by  ladders.  In  one  place  an  immense  boul- 
der has  become  detached  from  the  cliff,  and  in  this, 
which  from  below  looks  as  though  it  were  liable  to 
fall  at  any  moment,  two  dwellings  are  excavated. 
These  excavations  were  made  hundreds  of  years  ago 
by  the  retainers  of  the  feudal  barons  who  lived  here, 
with  a  view  to  economy  and  to  safety.  Here  are  the 
remains  of  a  feudal  castle  of  the  eleventh  century,  all 
that  is  left  of  it  now  being  a  stone  tower,  a  hut  fifty 
feet  in  height,  which  stands  tottering  on  the  very 
verge  of  the  cliff  three  or  four  hundred  feet  above  the 
bank  of  the  river. 


A   FLYING   TRIP   IN   THE   COUNTRY.  225 

Returning  to  Tours,  we  next  day  took  the  dil- 
igence and  rode  thirty  miles  across  the  country, 
through  vineyard  and  by  acacia  hedges,  to  the  old 
town  of  Chinon,  where  there  are  the  remains  of  a  cas- 
tle, now  entirely  in  decay,  in  which  Charles  the  Sev- 
enth received  Joan  of  Arc,  and  where  he  first  saw  his 
beautiful  and  talented  mistress,  Agnes  Sorel,  who  ex- 
ercised so  powerful  an  influence  on  his  life  and  the 
fortunes  of  France.  The  scene  of  these  interviews, 
and  of  the  splendor  of  the  court  of  the  indolent  and 
pleasure-loving  King,  is  now  a  sad  and  broken  ruin, 
and  crows  were  cawing  dismally  from  its  wall-tops. 
Near  it  is  a  square  tower,  over  a  deep  ditch,  supposed 
to  have  been  one  of  the  "oubliettes"  down  which 
prisoners  were  cast,  and  "forgotten"  forever.  In  one 
of  these  towers  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart  was  im- 
prisoned by  his  father,  Henry  the  Second,  for  conspir- 
ing to  dethrone  him.  It  is  now  converted  into  the 
ice-house  of  the  town  of  Chinon,  as  is  the  donjon  into 
a  powder-magazine.  Beneath  it  is  an  extensive  sub- 
terranean prison,  reached  by  descending  stone  steps, 
which  have  been  nearly  worn  away  during  the  long 
centuries  in  which  they  have  been  trodden  by  prison- 
ers and  visitors.  All  along  the  walls  of  this  under- 
ground dungeon  are  the  names  of  prisoners  who  were 
buried  in  that  living  tomb;  cut  in  the  rocks.  Some 
of  thorn  dated  1420.     It  was  a  relief  to  ascend  from 

10* 


226        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

this  dank  and  noisome  den,  smelling  like  a  tomb,  up 
again  into  the  clear  sunlight,  and  to  gaze  upon  the 
scene  which  presents  itself  in  the  lovely  valley.  God, 
the  great  Architect  and  Artist,  builds  lofty  hills,  and 
spreads  out  fertile  river-banks,  and  drapes  them  with 
verdure,  and  paints  them  with  beautiful  flowers,  and 
bathes  them  all  with  the  bright  and  glowing  sunshine, 
and  man  digs  dungeons  in  which  to  hide  his  fellows 
from  the  view. 

From  Chinon  we  went  to  Angers,  a  black-looking; 
dull  old  town,  containing  a  strong  castle  and  a  fine 
cathedral,  and  from  here  we  made  a  pleasant  little 
excursion  to  the  scene  of  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
of  romances,  and  where  we  laid  aside  for  the  time  our 
history  and  dwelt  again  in  the  youthful  days,  when 
we  were  alternately  charmed  and-  frightened  as  we 
read  our  fairy  tales.  At  Champtoce,  distant  about 
fifteen  miles  from  Angers,  on  a  green  and  beautiful 
hillside  overlooking  the  Loire,  are  the  imposing  ruins 
of  a  feudal  castle,  in  which  lived  in  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury one  Gilles  de  Eetz,  known  throughout  the  coun- 
try as  Le  Barbe  Bleu,  and  the  undoubted  original  of 
the  horrid  monster  who,  under  the  name  of  "Blue- 
beard," astonished  and  alarmed  our  childhoods.  This 
interesting  character,  having  lost  health  and  fortune 
by  youthful  excesses  and  extravagances,  believed  that 
he  could  restore  both  by  the  use  of  a  bath  of  infants' 


A    FLYING   TRIP    IN   THE    COUNTRY.  227 

blood,  and  for  this  purpose  he  is  said  to  have  killed 
no  less  than  a  hundred  babes.  In  those  days  the 
born  thralls  of  a  feudal  seigneur  would  bear  a  great 
deal  from  their  master,  but  the  crimes  of  the  gentle 
Gilles  finally  became  so  bold  and  frequent  that  all 
the  country  about  rebelled,  and  he  was  tried  and  duly 
burnt  at  Nantes,  after  relieving  his  mind  with  a  full 
confession. 

Two  towers  of  the  castle,  overgrown  with  moss 
and  ivy,  and  rapidly  crumbling  to  ruin,  still  rise  above 
the  underground  dungeons,  in  which  the  deeds  of 
blood  were  committed.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  I 
could  persuade  my  guide  to  go  with  me  as  far  as  the 
entrance  of  one  of  these  subterranean  cells,  and  I  be- 
lieve no  inducement  would  have  taken  him  with  me 
into  it.  The  peasants  give  the  castle  a  wide  berth 
after  dark;  children  will  not  play  around  the  ruins; 
and  to  this  day  the  mothers  of  Anjou  frighten  their 
nurslings  into  propriety  by  threatening  to  confine 
them  in  the  ruined  castle  of  Le  Barbe  Bleu. 

At  Angers  we  took  a  little  tea-pot-power  steam- 
boat down  the  Loire  to  Nantes.  The  river  for  the 
entire  distance  is  beautiful,  its  banks  densely  grown 
with  flax  and  vines,  and  rising  often  to  lofty  heights, 
whose  summits  are  crowned  with  crumbling  old  cas- 
tle-towers and  spired  churches.  We  reached  Nantes 
in  about  seven  hours,  and,  after  visiting  the  castle  in 


228        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

which  Henry  the  Fourth  signed  the  celebrated  edict 
which,  gave  freedom  to  the  French  Protestants,  left 
the  following  morning  for  a  ride  across  Brittany  in  a 
diligence. 

Brittany,  of  all  portions  of  France  is  the  most  out- 
landish. There  is  some  fine  land  and  scenery  in  it, 
but  generally  it  is  barren  and  poverty-stricken.  The 
people  retain  many  of  their  ancient  customs,  and  have 
been  but  little  disturbed  by  modern  innovations.  The 
peasants  still  dress  in  goat-skins,  and  the  girls  and 
old  women  and  female  children  all  wear  the  Breton 
cap,  which  extends  nearly  half  a  yard  above  and  be- 
hind the  head  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees. 
They  live  in  a  very  homely  manner,  make  and  drink 
but  very  little  wine,  using  cider  instead.  They  have 
no  barns  in  which  to  deposit  their  hay  and  grain, 
but  leave  it  in  the  open  air,  the  grain  being  threshed 
on  the  ground  where  it  is  cut.  The  land  is  all  cut 
up  into  small  irregular  patches,  each  one  being  sur- 
rounded by  a  border  of  trees,  which  effectually  shut 
out  the  sunshine  except  at  noon-day.  They  retain 
many  of  the  Druidical  superstitions  and  practices  of 
the  ages  previous  to  the  introduction  of  Christianity, 
and  to  this  day  the  peasant-women  of  Brittany  who 
desire  to  have  male  children  go  at  midnight  to  some 
of  the  Druidical  remains  with  which  the  country 
abounds,  and  rub  their  breasts  against  them.    In  short, 


A   FLYING   TRIP   IN  THE   COUNTRY. 


229 


these  people  live  and  act  in  many  things  just  as  their 
ancestors  did  a  thousand  years  ago,  and  are  an  aston- 
ishing example  of  primitive  simplicity,  in  this  age  of 
art  and  innovation. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PARISIAN    THEATRES. 

Annoyances — The  "  Claque." — Its  Origin  and  Object. — The  Censor- 
ship.— The  Acting. — Specialities  of  different  Theatres. 

T)ARIS  is  certainly  the  paradise  of  theatrical  man- 
-*-  agers — the  theatres  within  its  limits,  although  the 
most  uncomfortable  in  the  world,  being  always  crowd- 
ed. The  visitor  who  succeeds  in  sitting  through  a 
performance  without  once  having  his  temper  ruffled, 
is  entitled  to  a  first  prize  for  amiability  of  character. 

There  is  no  ventilation,  and  besides  being  crowded, 
one  stews.  And  then  there  is  the  claque  continually 
breaking  in  with  vigorous  applause ;  and  the  moment 
the  curtain  drops,  the  air  is  rent  with  the  yells  of 
wretches  with  cast-iron  lungs  crying  apples,  oranges, 
and  candies  for  sale. 

The  claque  is  one  of  the  most  annoying  among  the 
many  nuisances  which  afflict  the  Paris  theatres. 

Seated  usually  in  the  parquette,  immediately  be- 
hind the  orchestra  seats  and  directly  under  the  chan- 
delier, a  row  of  persons,  varying  from  half  a  dozen 
to  thirty,  may  be  seen  every  evening,  wet  or  dry,  who 
never  get  tired  of  seeing  the  same  piece,  and  who 


PARISIAN    THEATRES.  231 

never  forget  to  applaud  in  the  proper  places,  provided 
always  they  have  been  properly  paid  therefor.  This 
is  the  claque,  whose  presence  saves  the  Parisian  thea- 
tre-goer the  labor  of  applauding  for  himself. 

In  the  midst  of  the  party  sits  the  chef,  who  gives 
the  cue  when  to  applaud,  to  whom  the  rest  look  for 
all  their  instructions,  and  the  movement  of  whose 
hands  they  follow.  The  chef  is  paid  a  certain  sum 
by  the  management  of  the  theatre,  but  his  principal 
receipts  are  from  authors  who  are  about  producing 
new  pieces,  from  young  actors  and  actresses,  or  those 
who  desire  to  create  an  unusual  sensation.  The  chef 
furnishes  the  remainder  of  the  claque,  requiring  them 
sometimes  to  pay  a  small  sum  in  addition  to  their 
services  when  the  piece  draws  very  crowded  houses ; 
admitting  them  for  nothing,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, and  paying  them  a  little  when  there  is  not 
sufficient  attraction  to  induce  them  to  give  their  val- 
uable aid,  in  consideration  of  witnessing  the  perform- 
ance. The  claque  is  an  "  institution" — the  success  of 
a  piece  or  an  artist  depending,  in  great  measure,  upon 
its  efforts.  The  measure  of  success  is  generally  ar- 
ranged in  advance.  For  a  consideration,  a  "grand 
success"  is  guaranteed;  but  if  the  author  or  artist  is 
short  of  funds,  or  haggles  with  the  king  of  the  claque, 
a  "little  success"  only  is  promised.  A  degree  still 
lower,  sometimes  stipulated  for,  is  to  "save  the  piece 


232        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

or  the  artist  from  being  damned ;"  and  if  no  arrange- 
meet  at  all  is  made,  the  members  of  the  claque  only 
applaud  just  enough  to  save  themselves  and  their 
places.  The  whole  thing  is  graduated  in  this  manner, 
and  satisfactory  conditions  having  been  arranged,  the 
places  where  the  applause  is  to  come  in,  and  where 
encores  are  to  be  demanded,  are  all  marked  and  stud- 
ied by  the  chef  as  an  actor  would  study  his  part. 

Nobody,  of  course,  is  deceived  by  this  artificial  ar- 
rangement. Every  habitue  of  a  Parisian  theatre  very 
well  knows  that  the  "thunders  of  applause"  which 
burst  out  periodically  from  beneath  the  chandelier 
are  paid  for  at  so  much  a  clap ;  and  that  the  seedy 
but,  on  the  whole,  respectable-looking  individual  who 
controls  the  movements  of  his  band,  is  not  a  mere  pa- 
tron and  lover  of  the  dramatic  art,  who  finds  it  a  pleas- 
ure as  well  as  duty  to  assist  in  the  development  of 
genius,  and  to  crown  it  with  a  meed  of  applause,  but 
that  he  is  a  mere  mercenary.  And  yet  the  Parisian 
theatres  can  not,  or  at  least  their  managers  think  they 
can  not,  succeed  without  the  aid  of  the  claque. 

A  few  years  since,  awakened  to  the  absurdity  of 
the  system,  the  nuisance  was  suppressed  in  all  the 
theatres.  A  week  afterward  it  was  restored,  the  art- 
ists themselves  complaining,  and  asserting  that  they 
could  not  act  without  it.  Applause  was  a  stimulant 
as  necessarv  to  them  as  air  and  light,  and  the  audi- 


PARISIAN    THEATRES.  233 

ences,  accustomed  to  manifest  their  enthusiasm  by 
proxy,  would  not  applaud,  and  so  the  efforts  of  the 
artists  fell  dead  upon  the  house.  The  restored  claque, 
rinding  itself  master  of  the  situation,  became  more  de- 
manding and  impudent  than  ever,  and  the  old  system 
now  flourishes  in  full  vigor.  Frequent  difficulties 
arise,  however,  in  some  of  the  better  theatres  between 
the  audience  and  the  claque,  demonstrations  decidedly 
hostile  to  the  latter  being  made  by  the  former,  and  cries 
of  "down  with  the  claque"  being  often  uttered  with 
a  vim  which  proves  that  if  Parisian  audiences  had 
the  will,  they  certainly  have  the  power  to  make  noise 
enough  to  gratify  any  reasonable  demand  of  the  actors. 

The  origin  of  the  claque  dates  back  to  the  year 
1804,  and  it  first  became  an  "  institution  "  at  the  Come- 
die  Franchise.  At  this  time  two  rival  actresses,  M'lle 
Duchenois  and  M'lle  George,  were  "  strutting  their  lit- 
tle hour  upon  the  stage."  Each  had  her  partisans, 
who  nightly  applauded  their  favorite,  and  endeavored 
to  out-applaud  their  opponents.  M'lle  George  being 
a  favorite  of  the  Emperor  Napoleon,  and  the  noisiest 
demonstrations  being  made  in  her  behalf,  the  Govern- 
ment did  not  interfere,  and  the  result  was  that  the 
f/<ique  soon  became  a  permanent  affair,  and  was  trans- 
planted to  all  the  other  theatres. 

The  charges  for  admission  into  the  Parisian  thea- 
tres are  higher  than  in  those  of  our  cities — good  seats 


234        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

in  the  best  theatres  costing  from  five  to  ten  francs 
each,  and  more,  if  taken  in  advance.  The  expenses 
of  the  theatres  are  very  heavy,  ten  per  cent,  of  the 
gross  receipts  being  paid  over  to  the  hospital  fund, 
besides  a  large  percentage,  amounting  to  about  one- 
tenth  more,  to  the  authors  of  the  pieces  played. 

Three  of  the  theatres,  the  Opera  Frangais,  or  Im- 
perial Academy  of  Music,  the  Comedie  Francaise,  and 
the  Odeon,  receive  subventions  from  the  Government 
for  the  purpose  of  encouraging  and  sustaining  a  pure 
and  classical  taste  for  lyric  and  dramatic  art.  The 
theatres  are  under  the  immediate  control  of  the  Min- 
ister of  State ;  and  all  pieces,  before  being  produced, 
must  be  sanctioned  by  him,  and  pass  the  ordeal  of  a 
rigid  censorship,  which  is  intended  to  protect  the 
morals  and  politics  of  the  Parisians  from  danger  of 
harm.  The  censors  are  particularly  cautious  that 
nothing  which  may  possibly  tend,  either  directly  or 
remotely,  toward  diminishing  the  faith  of  the  people 
in  the  present  Government  and  its  form  shall  pass 
through  their  hands,  while  they  are  considerably  more 
lenient  toward  productions  of  another  description. 

Until  recently,  the  theatres  were  subjected  to  a 
special  control,  and  restricted  to  certain  styles  of  plays. 
For  example,  a  theatre  devoted  to  the  "legitimate 
drama"  would  not  be  permitted  to  play  spectacular 
pieces,  introduce  dancing  upon  the  stage,  or  in  any 


PARISIAN   THEATRES.  235 

manner  infringe  upon  its  "  speciality."  This  has  now 
been  changed ;  and  not  only  can  any  one  who  chooses 
establish  a  theatre,  but  the  manager  can  cause  to  be 
performed  any  character  of  play  from  high  tragedy 
to  pantomime.  Two  large  and  comfortable  theatres, 
roomy  and  well  ventilated,  the  Lyrique  and  the  Thea- 
tre du  Chatelet,  have  also  been  opened.  The  former 
is  an  opera-house,  and  at  the  latter  "spectacles"  are 
gotten  up  in  the  most  gorgeous  style. 

The  French  comedians  and  actresses  are  unquestion- 
ably the  best  in  the  world,  because,  as  a  rule,  there  is 
with  them  no  straining  for  mere  effect.  The  "  vein  of 
Ercles"  is  not  popular  with  them,  and  they  interest  their 
audiences  and  act  well  simply  because  they  do  not  seem 
to  act  at  all.  If  the  visitor  to  Paris  wishes  to  see  the 
perfection  of  classic  acting,  and  listen  to  the  purest 
pronunciation  of  French,  he  should  go  to  the  Comedie 
Francaise ;  if  fond  of  show,  and  tinsel,  and  glitter,  and 
the  sight  of  bewitching  young  ladies  whose  dresses 
were  either  "  begun  too  late,  or  left  off  too  early,"  to 
the  Chatelet  or  the  Porte  St.  Martin;  if  willing  to  listen 
to  pieces  rather  latitudinarian  in  their  character  for 
the  sake  of  the  most  perfect  comic  acting  in  the 
world,  to  the  Palais  Royal  or  the  Varietes  ;  if  disposed 
to  the  "blood  and  thunder"  drama,  considerably  soft- 
ened down  from  the  style  in  which  he  sees  it  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  to  the  Ambigu  or  the  Gaiete. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

DISTINGUISHED  NEGROES. 

Confused  Ideas  of  America. — One  of  my  Countrymen. — No  Prejudice 

against  Color. 

I~N  Europe,  every  body  from  our  side  of  the  ocean — 
be  he  from  the  United  States,  Canada,  Cuba,  Mex- 
ico, Brazil,  or  Patagonia — is  called  an  "" American;" 
and  unlearned  people,  as  a  rule,  make  little  or  no  dis- 
tinction in  the  nationality  of  the  citizens  of  these  va- 
rious countries.  This,  perhaps,  is  no  more  strange 
than  the  lack  of  knowledge  shown  by  many  of  our 
countrymen  in  regard  to  the  divisions  of  Europe,  and 
especially  of  Germany. 

I  have  often  had  gentlemen  from  Peru,  Mexico,  and 
Cuba  introduced  to  me  as  my  "countrymen"  by  per- 
sons ©f  education  even,  and  I  once  walked  five  miles 
to  see  a  man  in  Italy,  whom  I  was  told  was  an  Amer- 
ican who  would  be  glad  to  see  a  "fellow-citizen," 
upon  arriving  at  whose  villa,  I  found  to  be  a  Brazil- 
ian, of  a  color  which,  I  am  afraid,  would  keep  him  out 
of  "  society  "  in  the  United  States. 

Being  black  does  not,  however,  affect  a  man's  char- 


DISTINGUISHED    NEGROES.  287 

acter  or  chances  of  success  in  Paris,  where  there  is  not 
the  slightest  prejudice  against  color,  and  where  a  ne- 
gro is  received  and  treated  in  the  same  way  as  a  white 
man  of  his  rank,  education,  and  wealth  would  be.  At 
the  schools  and  colleges  white  and  black  children  sit 
side  by  side ;  and  in  marching  through  the  streets,  on 
their  way  to  exercise  in  the  gardens,  a  white  and 
black  boy  are  often  seen  arm  in  arm.  There  are  no 
"negro  pews  "  in  the  churches;  at  balls  and  parties, 
public  and  private,  persons  of  color  mingle  indiscrim- 
inately with  whites;  and  at  the  Imperial  balls  at  the 
Tuileries  it  excited  not  the  slightest  remark  to  see  a 
"black  Eepublican "  from  Hayti  whirling  through 
the  labyrinth  of  the  waltz  with  a  blue-eyed,  fair-haired 
daughter  of  France.  Indeed,  it  is  no  unusual  thing  in 
the  streets  of  Paris  to  see  negroes  riding  in  their  own 
carriages,  driven  and  attended  by  white  servants  in 
livery.  I  was  once  not  a  little  amused,  when  present 
at  the  formal  ceremony  of  the  opening  of  the  Senate, 
at  seeing  in  the  diplomatic  box  the  minister  from 
Hayti,  about  whose  color  there  could  be  no  question, 
and  who,  as  the  master  of  ceremonies  doubtless  sup- 
posed, with  singular  appropriateness,  was  placed  by 
the  side  of  our  Secretary  of  Legation,  then  acting  as 
minister.  The  latter  was  a  gentleman  from  South 
Carolina,  who  could  not  have  been  particularly  de- 
lighted at  the  proximity  of  his  colleague.     As  our 


238       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

Government  had  not  then  "  recognized  "  that  of  Hayti, 
our  representative  did  not  appear  disposed  to  recog- 
nize his  brother  diplomat 

Some  of  the  most  celebrated  men  in  France,  in  the 
ranks  of  literature  and  art,  some  of  the  most  polished 
and  gayest  cavaliers  have  been,  and  some  of  the  prin- 
ciple celebrities  of  the  present  day  are,  negroes. 
Glancing  back  to  the  last  century,  we  find  among  the 
brilliant  throng  which  surrounded  the  court  of  Louis 
the  Sixteenth  at  Versailles,  St.  George  de  Boulogne, 
a  native  of  Guadaloupe,  a  writer  of  elegant  verses,  in 
person  a  model  of  manly  beauty,  and  in  manner  one 
of  the  most  polished  of  courtiers.  The  chronicles  of 
the  time  represented  him  as  one  of  the  favored  lovers 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  and  he  it  was  that  carved  with 
his  skates  upon  the  basin  of  Neptune  at  Versailles 
pretty  sonnets,  inscribed  to  the  ladies  of  the  chateau. 
Under  the  Eepublic  he  became  a  Colonel  of  Hussars, 
and  was  celebrated  for  his  bravery  and  address. 

General  Dumas,  the  father  of  the  popular  roman- 
cer of  the  present  day,  was  a  native  of  the  then 
French  colony  of  St.  Domingo,  a  general-in-chief  of 
the  armies  of  the  Eepublic  in  1794,  and  the  intimate 
friend  of  Hoche,  Kleber,  and  Marceau.  The  mother 
of  Dumas  was  a  full-blooded  negress.  His  name  is 
inscribed  among  those  of  the  brave  men  chiselled  in 
the  imperishable  marble  of  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  and 


DISTINGUISHED    NEGROES.  239 

be  was  considered  one  of  the  most  daring  and  devoted 
generals  of  the  Eepublic.  Upon  the  accession  of  Na- 
poleon to  the  Imperial  throne  of  France,  General  Du- 
mas, who  had  followed  him  in  Egypt,  might,  had  he 
chosen  to  have  resigned  his  principles,  have  become  a 
duke  and  a  marshal. 

Julian  Raymond  of  St.  Domingo,  a  deputy  to  the 
National  Assembly  of  1789,  distinguished  himself  in 
that  body  and  left  a  number  of  works  upon  political 
subjects.  Lethiers  of  Guadaloupe,  was  an  eminent 
painter  of  the  Imperial  epoch,  and  a  Member  of  the 
Institute  of  France.  Lethiers,  under  the  first  Empire, 
when  the  mustache  was  monopolized  by  military  men, 
persisted  in  wearing  his,  although  a  civilian.  For  this 
audacity,  because  such  it  was  considered  in  those 
days,  he  was  led  into  several  duels  with  military  offi- 
cers, from  which,  however,  he  always  came  off  victor. 
He  was  sent  to  Eome  as  Director  of  the  French  Acad- 
emy of  Fine  Arts,  by  Napoleon,  who  imagined  that 
to  be  the  only  mode  of  putting  an  end  to  these  con- 
tinued quarrels.  Several  paintings  of  Lethiers  arc  to 
be  seen  in  the  galleries  of  the  Louvre. 

Bissette,  a  native  of  Martinique,  at  first  marked  for 
the  axe  of  the  executioner,  was  condemned  to  impris- 
onment at  hard  labor  in  1825,  for  having  received 
from  France  a  pamphlet  in  which  the  political  rights 
i  »f  people  of  color  were  demanded.     By  active  energy 


240       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

and  influence  this  sentence  was  reversed,  and  Bissette 
came  to  Paris,  •where  he  was  regarded  as  a  martyr,  and 
soon  became  the  intimate  friend  of  General  Lafayette 
and  B  njamin  Constant.  In  the  Eevolution  of  1830 
Bissette  took  an  active  part,  for  which  he  received 
from  Louis  Philippe  the  Cross  of  July,  and  was  made 
an  officer  in  the  National  Guard  of  Paris.  He  then 
founded  a  journal  called  the  Revue  des  Colonies,  the 
principal  object  of  which  was  to  bring  about  the  abo- 
lition of  slavery,  and  he  was  still  demanding  this  with 
extraordinary  perseverance,  skill,  and  vigor,  when  the 
Eevolution  of  1848  gave  liberty  to  the  slaves  of  the 
colonies  of  France.  In  the  Constituent  Assembly  he 
sat  as  deputy  from  Martinique,  and  upon  the  fall  of 
the  Eepublic  was  created  a  chevalier  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor  by  the  present  Emperor. 

At  the  head  of  the  men  of  color,  at  the  present  day 
celebrated  in  France,  is  Alexander  Dumas.  He  is 
himself  a  native  of  France,  and  the  son  of  the  cele- 
brated general.  Among  literary  men  who  are  either 
negroes  or  mulattoes  are,  also,  Eugene  Chapus,  a  na- 
tive of  Guadaloupe,  a  pleasing  and  refined  writer,  at 
present  the  principal  editor  of  the  journal  Le  Sport  > 
Francais;  M.Felicien  Mallefille,  a  romancer  and  dram- 
atist, author  of  the  Memoires  de  Don  Juan,  Les  Sept 
En/ants  de  Lara,  and  a  comedy  entitled  Le  Coeur  et  la 
Dot,  which  since  1853  has  held  a  position  upon  the 


DISTINGUISHED   NEGROES.  241 

boards  of  the  Comedie  Franeaise ;  M.  Auguste  Lacaus- 
sade,  a  distinguished  poet,  chevalier  of  the  Legion  of 
Honor,  and  principal  editor  of  the  Revue  Europeenne  ; 
M.  Victor  Sejour,  a  native  of  New  Orleans,  a  dramat- 
ic author  of  considerable  celebrity,  and  an  officer  of 
the  Legion  of  Honor ;  M.  Melvil  Bloncourt,  a  most 
agreeable,  pleasing  writer,  whose  articles  appear  in  the 
Courrier  du  Dima/nche,  the  Steele,  and  the  Journal  des 
Economistes,  in  which  he  has  recently  published  a  re- 
markable article  upon  Hayti.  The  founder  of  the 
Journal  des  Ecoles,  M.  Bloncourt,  while  still  a  student, 
defended  the  cause  of  the  enfranchised  slaves  against 
the  colonial  reaction.  M.  Bloncourt  has  recently  writ- 
ten for  the  Bioyraphie  Universelle,  the  lives  of  celebra- 
ted men  of  color  in  all  countries. 

M.  Alexander  Dumas  (the  younger),  author  of  the 
celebrated  Dame  aux  Camelias,  Diane  de  Lys,  etc.,  bears 
evident  marks  of  his  origin  and  race.  M.  Caraby,  of 
New  Orleans,  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  advocates  of 
the  bar  of  Paris.  M.  White,  of  Cuba,  the  son  of  a  ne- 
gress,  received  the  first  prize  as  a  violinist  from  the 
Conservatoire  de  Musique  in  1856.  M.  de  la  Nux,  also 
the  possessor  of  a  first  prize  from  the  Conservatoire,  is 
a  pianist  of  great  skill  and  celebrity. 

In  the  French  army,  at  this  time,  are  several  men 
of  color,  among  them  M.  Virgile,  an  eleve  of  the  Ecok 
Polytechnique,  Colonel  of  Artillery,  and  chevalier  of 

11 


242        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

the  Legion  of  Honor ;  M.  Lazare  de  Lance,  Captain 
of  Cuirassiers ;  M.  Guillot  Koux,  Captain  of  Zouaves ; 
M.  Bouscaren,  Lieutenant  in  the  line;  M.  Beville, 
Lieutenant  of  Hussars,  and  M.  Bores,  Captain  in  the 
French  Navy.  The  ecclesiastical  profession  also  con- 
tains many  men  of  color,  some  of  them  of  celebrity  ; 
and  among  these  M.  Alfred  Labory,  director  of  the 
Freres  de  la  Doctrine  Chretienne  of  Ploermel,  and  M. 
Langlume,  Missionary  to  Senegal. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

LEAENED   INSTITUTIONS   AND   LECTURES. 

Distinguished  Lecturers.  —  Opportunities  for  the  Gratification  of  all 
Tastes. — Programme  of  the  Courses. 

T  I  \BE  Closerie  de  Lilas  is  not  the  only  "  institution  " 
-*-  to  which  the  youth  of  the  Quartier  Latin  are  at- 
tracted. It  is  in  this  quarter  that  the  schools  of  law, 
medicine,  science,  and  literature  are  situated,  and  dur- 
ing about  six  months  in  the  year  lectures  are  here 
given  in  the  College  of  the  Sorbonne,  the  College  de 
France,  the  Ecole  de  Medecine,  and  the  Ecole  de 
Droit.  About  four  thousand  students,  the  majority 
of  whom  are  French,  but  whose  number  embraces 
natives  of  almost  every  country  on  the  globe,  regu- 
larly follow  the  courses  with  the  purpose  of  obtain- 
ing diplomas  and  graduating  in  the  branch  of  study 
which  they  have  adopted.  These  lectures  are,  how- 
ever, free  to  all  who  choose  to  attend  them,  and  the 
scientific  and  literary  classes  at  the  Sorbonne  and  the 
College  de  France  are  in  particular  much  visited  by 
Btrangers.  In  the  lecture-rooms  of  the  College  de 
France  seats  are  rosorvod  for  ladies. 


244       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST  IN   EUROPE. 

With  the  exception  of  those  at  the  "  Conserva- 
toire," the  lectures  are  all  given  in  the  daytime,  and 
commence  as  early  as  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  lecturers  are  men  of  first-rate  ability,  professors 
celebrated  in  their  "  specialities,"  and  among  them  are 
some  whose  names  have  obtained  a  world-wide  repu- 
tation, such  as  St.  Hilaire,  Milne  Edwards,  Edouard 
Laboulaye,  St.  Marc  Girardin,  Becquerel,  and  Drs. 
Velpeau  and  Nelaton.  With  a  programme  of  the 
courses  in  his  hand,  the  lover  of  literature,  science, 
law,  or  medicine  can  find  at  any  hour  of  the  day  the 
opportunity  of  listening  to  a  lecture  upon  almost  any 
subject  from  the  "  Immaculate  Conception  "  down  to 
the  art  of  bread-making.  The  lover  of  literature  and 
history  can  gratify  his  tastes  to  the  "top  of  his  bent" 
at  the  College  de  France.  The  spectator  in  the  field 
of  dogmatic  theology,  or  in  the  more  practical  ones 
of  chemistry,  natural  philosophy,  zoology,  anatomy, 
physiology,  or  mathematics,  will  find  all  these  treated 
upon  in  the  dingy  amphitheatres  of  the  Sorbonne. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  courses  of  lectures  has 
been' that  recently  given  at  the  "Conservatoire  des 
Arts  et  Metiers,"  in  the  Eue  St.  Martin.  These  lec- 
tures being  intended  for  workmen,  are  given  on  Sun- 
days, and  in  the  evening,  and  are  usually  of  a  very 
practical  description — generally  devoted  to  the  appli- 
cation of  science  to  industrial  pursuits.      These  are 


LEARNED    INSTITUTIONS    AND    LECTURES.        245 

crowded  every  evening  with  laborers,  who,  having  fin- 
ished their  daily  task,  come  here  with  their  note-books, 
and  carefully  listen  to  and  take  down  for  future  refer- 
ence such  portions  of  the  lectures  as  they  think  may 
be  of  particular  service  to  them  in  their  trades.  The 
expenses  of  all  these  lectures,  a  programme  of  which 
for  last  winter  is  given  below,  are  paid  by  the  Govern- 
ment, and  they  may  be  attended  "  without  money  and 
without  price." 

SORBONNE. 

FACULTY  OF   SCIENCES. 

Higher  Algebra ;  Astronomy ;  Chemistry ;  Calculations  of 
Probabilities  and  Physical  Mathematics;  Natural  Philosophy, 
Experimental  and  Mechanical ;  Zoology,  Anatomy,  and  Com- 
parative Physiology;  Higher  Geometry;  Mineralogy;  Differ- 
ential and  Integral  Calculus. 


FACULTY   OF   LETTERS   AST)   TIIEOLOGY. 

Moral  Theology  ;  Philosophy ;  French  Eloquence  ;  Ancient 
History ;  Foreign  Literature ;  Greek  Literature ;  the  Sacred 
Writings;  Latin  Poetry;  Modern  History;  History  of  Philos- 
ophy ;  the  Hebrew  Language ;  Sacred  Eloquence  ;  Ecclesiasti- 
cal History;  Geography;  French  Poetry;  Ecclesiastical  La  w ; 
Latin  Eloquence  ;  Ecclesiastical  History  ;  Dogmatic  Theology. 


FACULTY   OF   LAW. 

The  Code  Napole'on;  Criminal  Law  and  Penal  Legislation; 
Civil  Practice;  Roman  Law;  French  Law  (studied  in  its  feu- 
dal and  common  origin);  the  Commercial  Code;  History  of 
Roman  and  French  Law;  Political  Economy;  International 
Law. 


246        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 


FACULTY   OF   MEDICINE. 


Medical  Philosophy ;  General  Pathology  and  Therapeutics ; 
Anatomy;  Medical  Chemistry;  Surgical  Pathology;  Opera- 
tions ;  Histology ;  Diseases  of  Children ;  Mental  and  Nervous 
Diseases ;  Ophthalmology ;  Diseases  of  the  Urinary  Organs. 

SCHOOL   OF   PHARMACY. 

Physics;  Pharmacy;  Toxicology;  Natural  History  of  Veg- 
etable Medicaments ;  General  Chemistry. 

COLLEGE  DE  FRANCE. 

Arab  Language  and  Literature ;  Mathematics ;  Comparative 
Grammar;  Sclavonic  Language  and  Literature  ;  Latin  Poetry; 
French  Language  and  Literature  in  the  Middle  Ages ;  Hebrew, 
Chaldaic,  and  Syriac  Languages;  Languages  and  Literature 
of  Modern  Europe;  Chinese  and  Tartar;  Mantchou  Lan- 
guage and  Literature;  Epigraphy  and  Roman  Antiquities; 
Greek  and  Latin  Philosophy;  Political  Economy;  General 
and  Mathematical  Natural  Philosophy ;  History  of  Medicine ; 
Organic  Chemistry ;  Comparative  Embryogony ;  the  Turkish 
Language ;  International  Law ;  Natural  History  of  Inorganic 
Bodies;  General  and  Experimental  Natural  Philosophy;  Per- 
sian Language  and  Literature ;  Egyptian  Philosophy  and  Ar- 
chaeology ;  Sanscrit  Language  and  Literature ;  Ethics ;  Chemis- 
try (general  study  of  salts) ;  Greek  Language  and  Literature  ; 
Experimental  Medicine;  Latin  Eloquence;  Modern  French 
Language  and  Literature ;  Celestial  Mechanics. 

SCHOOL   OF   MINES. 

Geology;  Mineralogy;  Palaeontology. 

CONSERVATOIRE  DES  ARTS  ET  METIERS. 

Chemistry  applied  to  Industry;  Agricultural  Chemistry; 
Natural  Philosophy  applied  to  the  Arts ;  Geometry  applied  to 
the  Arts ;  Chemistry  applied  to  the  Arts ;  Industrial  Legisla- 
tion ;  Spinning  and  Weaving;  Descriptive  Geometry;  Dyeing 


LEARNED    INSTITUTIONS   AND   LECTURES.       247 

and  Scouring  of  Cloths ;  Agriculture ;  Industrial  Economy ; 
Agricultural  Works  and  Rural  Engineering;  Industrial  and 
Statistical  Administration. 


SCHOOL  OF  LIVING  ORIENTAL  LANGUAGES. 

Course  of  Algerian  Arabic  ;  Course  of  Hindostanee ;  Course 
of  Sanscrit ;  Course  of  Tliibetian  ;  Course  of  Modem  Greek ; 
Course  of  Arabic ;  Course  of  Japanese ;  Course  of  Modern  Chi- 
nese ;  Course  of  Common  Arabic ;  Course  of  Persian ;  Course 
of  Malay  and  Javanese  ;  Course  of  Turkish. 


IMPERIAL  MANUFACTORY  OF  THE  GOBELINS. 
Chemistry  applied  to  Dyeing. 

MJJSEUM  OF  NATURAL  HISTORY. 
{Jardin  des  Plantes.) 

Zoology  (articulated  animals) ;  Zoology  (reptiles  and  fishes) 
stable  Physics;  Comparative  Anatomy;  Palaeontology. 


Cl     ~fift 


u*^^j* 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
"down  among  the  dead  men." 

The  Catacombs  of  Paris. — A  Visit  to  them. — Dismal  Places. — Miles 
of  Skulls  and  Bones. — The  Abode  of  the  Dead. — An  agreeable 
Situation. — Accidents. 

^pHERE  are  two  cities  in  the  latitude  and  longi- 
-*-  tude  which  mark  the  site  of  Paris  on  this  ter- 
restrial ball :  the  one  on  the  surface  above  ground, 
with  its  broad  boulevards  and  princely  palaces,  noble 
monuments  and  elegant  mansions,  and  its"  gay,  bus- 
tling life  and  beauty.  The  other  is  a  subterranean, 
silent  city  of  the  dead,  lying  beneath  the  upper  one, 
with  its  narrow,  dank,  and  noisome  avenues,  cut 
through  the  solid  rock,  within  which  are  moulder- 
ing to  decay  three  millions  of  what  were  once  the 
living,  moving,  trading,  dancing,  feasting,  and  merry- 
making denizens  of  the  upper  city.  The  population 
of  the  subterranean  is  nearly  double  that  of  the  su- 
perficial Paris. 

About  one-tenth  part  of  the  total  superficies  of  the 
French  capital  is  undermined  with  the  Catacombs. 
These  excavations  pass  beneath  the  principal  streets 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Seine,  in  the  Faubourgs  St. 


"DOWN    AMONG    THE    DEAD    MEN.'  24^ 

Germain,  St.  Jacques,  and  San  Marcel,  and  are  in  ex- 
tent about  three  millions  of  square  yards.  The  Ob- 
servatory, the  Pantheon,  the  Luxembourg  and  its  gar- 
den, stand  above  the  damp  and  sunless  streets  of  the 
city  of  the  dead  below.  The  origin  of  these  immense 
excavations  dates  back  to  a  remote  period.  More 
than  a  thousand  years  ago  they  were  made  for  the  pur- 
pose of  obtaining  stone  to  build  the  houses  of  Paris. 
In  the  year  178-4,  some  sinkings  of  the  earth  having 
occurred,  a  company  of  engineers  was  authorized  to 
direct  such  works  as  were  necessary  for  the  safety  of 
the  streets  and  houses  above,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
the  Council  of  State  having  issued  a  decree  for  clear- 
ing the  Cemetery  of  the  Innocents,  which  stood  in  the 
very  heart  of  Paris,  on  the  ground  now  occupied  by 
the  principal  market,  it  was  ordered  that  the  remains 
found  in  this,  as  well  as  the  other  city  cemeteries, 
should  be  deposited  in  these  vast  subterranean  quar- 
ries. 

The  works  having  been  completed,  the  ceremony 
of  the  consecration  of  the  Catecombs  took  place  on 
the  7th  of  April,  1786,  and  on  the  same  day  the  re- 
moval from  the  cemeteries  was  commenced.  The 
work  was  always  performed  at  night ;  the  bones  were 
brought  in  funeral  cars  covered  with  a  pall,  followed 
by  priests  chanting  the  service  for  the  dead,  and  upon 
reaching  the  Catacombs,  were  shot  down  a  shaft  into 

11* 


250       AN    AMERICAN    JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

them.  When  first  deposited,  they  were  piled  up 
without  any  order  or  regularity,  save  that  those  from 
each  cemetery  were  placed  in  separate  heaps ;  but  in 
the  year  1810  a  regular  system  of  arrangement  was 
commenced.  Openings  were  made  for  the  admission 
of  air,  channels  formed  to  carry  off  the  water,  steps 
constructed  from  the  lower  to  the  upper  excavations, 
pillars  erected  to  support  the  dangerous  parts  of  the 
vaults,  and  the  skulls  and  bones  built  up  among  the 
walls.  Formerly,  visitors  obtained  admission  with 
but  little  difficulty ;  but  several  accidents  having  oc- 
curred, they  were  for  a  long  time  excluded,  and  at 
present  only  a  limited  number  are  permitted  to  go 
down  once  a  year — about  the  first  of  October — when 
the  Inspector-general  of  the  Quarries  of  the  Seine,  to 
whom  applications  must  be  made  for  tickets,  makes 
his  annual  tour  of  inspection. 

Besides  being  the  place  of  deposit  for  the  remains 
from  the  cemeteries,  the  Catacombs  are  the  burial- 
ground  of  those  killed  in  the  different  revolutions; 
and  now,  every  five  years,  the  common  graves  in 
the  three  great  cemeteries  of  Pere  La  Chaise,  Mont- 
martre,  and  Mont  Parnasse  are  dug  up,  and  the  re- 
mains of  the  unknown,  unnamed  poor  removed  to 
the  Catacombs,  to  make  room  for  the  crowding  dead. 

My  application  to  M.  de  Hennezel  was  followed 
by  an  immediate  reply,  inclosing  a  ticket  for  four 


••DOWN    AMONG   THE    DEAD    MEN.''  251 

persons.  There  are  some  sixty  entrances  to  the  Cat- 
acombs, but  the  principal  one  is  in  the  garden  of  the 
city  custom-house,  at  the  old  Barriere  d'Enfer — cer- 
tainly a  very  appropriate  locality  in  which  to  con- 
struct the  main  descent  to  these  lower  regions.  We 
were  requested  to  assemble  a  little  before  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  each  one  to  be  provided  with 
a  candle.  I  had  taken  the  precaution  not  only  to 
obey  the  letter  of  the  advice,  but  also  furnished  my- 
self with  a  box  of  wax  matches  and  a  quantity  of 
biscuit;  for  such  things  have  happened  as  people  los- 
ing their  light  and  way,  and  being  left  in  these  sub- 
terranean passages  for  a  day  or  two,  and  taken  out 
half  famished.  By  four  o'clock  we  were  all  assem- 
bled, about  two  hundred  of  us,  among  whom  were  at 
least  twenty  ladies.  The  entrance  is  through  a  door- 
way at  one  end  of  the  garden,  and  lighting  our  can- 
dles, the  inspector  having  opened  the  passage,  we 
commenced  our  descent,  two  officers  standing  at  the 
door-way  and  carefully  counting  us  as  we  passed 
them.  The  descent  is  by  a  spiral  stone  staircase  of 
ninety  steps,  and  measuring  seventy  feet.  Having 
wound  around  them  until  we  were  giddy,  those  of  us 
who  had  the  misfortune  to  enter  first  being  covered 
with  grease  from  the  dripping  candles  of  those  above, 
we  found  ourselves  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway  in  a 
tunnel  about  three  feet  wide,  and  but  little  more  than 


252        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST    IN    EUROPE. 

six  feet  in  height,  and  in  which  only  two  persons 
could  walk  abreast.  We  followed  along  the  narrow 
path,  and  soon  it  took  a  turn.  At  the  corner  was  the 
name  of  the  street  cut  in  the  stone,  and  the  whole  of 
this  immense  subterranean  city  is  so  laid  out  in  streets, 
each  turning  having  not  only  the  name  cut  in  the 
rock,  but  two  arrows  painted  upon  it — one  pointing 
the  way  to  the  place  where  the  bones  are  deposited, 
and  the  other  in  the  direction  of  the  staircase. 

We  were  walking  through  a  narrow  passage,  hewn 
in  the  solid  rock.  Eock  above,  rock  below,  and  rock 
on  either  side.  The  walls  were  damp,  and  from  the 
roof  above,  which  our  heads  often  touched,  drops  of 
water  were  percolating,  and  immense  yawning  fissures 
permitted  it  to  pass  sometimes  in  streams.  The  rough, 
uneven'  ceiling  of  this  vault  was  in  many  places  fill- 
ed with  cracks ;  and  huge  masses  of  stone,  looking  as 
if  they  needed  but  a  touch  to  bring  them  down  upon 
our  heads  and  bury  us  all  in  a  common  ruin,  we  saw 
above  us  frequently  during  our  passage.  I  was  glad, 
afterward,  that  I  had  not  examined  the  map  of  the 
Catacombs  before  going  down  and  marked  the  great 
number  of  places  where  the  roof  has  fallen  in,  or  I 
might  have  been  a  little  alarmed  at  this  shaky-look- 
ing canopy ;  and  I  must  confess  it  made  me  shiver 
once  or  twice  to  see  a  foolhardy  individual  just  be- 
fore us  continually  picking  off  the  little   stalactites 


"down  among  the  dead  men."  253 

which  the  oozing  water,  strongly  impregnated  with 
carbonate  of  lime,  formed  in  icy  pendants. 

Occasionally,  on  either  side  of  the  vault,  was  a 
dark,  dismal -looking  hole,  into  which  putting  our 
candles,  we  could  see  that  it  went  down,  down,  down, 
into  Cimmerian  blackness;  and  from  the  main  pas- 
sage-way, through  which  we  were  going,  other  pas- 
sages branched  off  in  every  direction.  "We  must  not 
venture  into  them,  however ;  we  must  follow  the 
crowd,  for  a  minute's  absence  from  the  candle-bear- 
ing throng  might  involve  us  in  a  labyrinthine  maze, 
from  which  we  might  never  extricate  ourselves — too 
dark  and  too  complicated  even  for  wax  matches  and 
biscuit  to  get  us  out  of. 

We  turned  a  corner  again  :  we  were  under  the 
"  Eoute  d'Orleans,"  a  broad  boulevard  a  hundred  or 
two  feet  above  us.  A  little  farther,  and  the  guide- 
board  informed  that  we  were  beneath  the  Sceaux  Rail- 
way Station,  about  three  hundred  yards  from  where 
we  entered.  Now  we  were  below  the  Rue  d'Enfer, 
and  then  under  a  church,  or  some  other  public  build- 
ing the  name  of  which  was  cut  in  the  wall.  Some- 
times the  tunnel  widens,  and  in  some  places  solid 
mason-work  had  been  placed  to  prop  up  the  falling, 
cracking  ceiling. 

In  this  way  we  groped  along  for  fifteen  or  twenty 
minutes  until  we  came  to  the  door  of  the  Catacombs 


254        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

proper,  the  inclosure  containing  the  human  remains 
being  but  about  one  three-hundredth  part  of  the  en- 
tire extent  of  the  quarries.  The  door  is  a  heavy 
wooden  one,  over  which  is  the  inscription,  "Has  ultra 
metas  requiescunt  beatam  spent  spectantes ;"  and  as  it 
creaked  solemnly  upon  its  massive  hinges,  we  walk- 
ed in — in  among  the  dead  of  centuries  !  Good  God ! 
what  a  sight !  We  stepped  from  the  doorway  into  a 
vestibule,  wider  considerably  than  the  shafts  through 
which  we  had  come.  On  either  side  was  a  wall  of 
human  bones  and  skulls  reaching  nearly  to  the  roof, 
here  some  ten  feet  in  height.  'This  wall  is  built  of 
the  femur  and  tibia  (the  thigh  and  shin  bones),  and 
three  rows  of  skulls  —  the  first,  two  feet  -from  the 
ground,  and  the  others  about  that  distance  apart,  and 
this  construction  on  either  side  of  the  vaults  is  main- 
tained throughout  the  whole.  Behind  and  piled  up 
even  with  it  to  the  top,  the  smaller  bones,  which  this 
wall  of  skulls  and  thighs  and  shins  sustains,  were 
thrown  indiscriminately.  The  skulls  were  placed 
fronting  each  other,  and,  with  the  holes  where  the 
eyes  had  been,  and  the  upper  jaws,  partly  filled  with 
teeth,  all  lighted  up  with  the  glare  of  our  candles, 
grinned  horribly  at  us  !  Here,  indeed,  was  a  "  cham- 
ber of  horrors !"  and  all  the  attendant  circumstances 
added  to  the  intensity  of  the  singular  scene.  We 
were  a  hundred  feet  beneath  the  surface  of  the  earth. 


"DOWN    AMONG   THE    DEAL)    MEN."  255 

A  damp  and  charnel-like  smell  pervaded  the  air. 
The  flickering  candles  threw  a  pale  and  ghost-like 
light  upon  the  wall  of  human  bones,  and  down  in 
these  vaults  our  voices  sounded  strangely.  It  cer- 
tainly would  not  be  a  pleasant  place  for  a  nervous, 
imaginative  man  to  be  left  alone  in  without  a  light. 

But  we  were  as  yet  only  in  the  vestibule  of  these 
dark  and  silent  chambers  of  the  dead.  Miles  of  walls 
of  human  bones  were  still  to  be  passed  through,  ere 
we  should  see  the  fair  face  of  Mother  Earth  and  the 
clear  light  of  day  again.  The  crowd  began  to  move, 
and  I  followed  them.  A  little  dark  and  dismal  open- 
ing in  the  side  attracted  my  curiosity.  I  turned  into 
it  for  a  moment,  and,  extending  my  candle,  looked 
over  the  edge  of  a  yawning  abyss  which  went  down 
into  the  earth,  I  know  not  how  far,  but  the  extent 
of  which  I  camG>  very  near  testing.  The  foul  atmos- 
phere arising  from  it,  or  perhaps  a  little  puff  of  wind 
extinguished  my  candle,  and  I  stood  on  the  verge 
of  a  subterranean  gulf,  among  the  dead,  and  in  dark- 
ness. 

*     ■      *  *  *  -x-  -x-  * 

Here  would  be  an  excellent  place  now  to  finish  a 
chapter,  after  the  fashion  of  those  writers  of  sensa- 
tion stories  who,  when  they  have  succeeded  in  sus- 
pending their  heroes  by  the  latter  end  of  their  nether 
garments  to  a  nail  in  the  top  of  a  fence,  very  much 


256       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

to  the  disgust  of  their  readers,  suddenly  bring  up  with 
"to  be  continued  " 

But  I  will  not  be  so  cruel,  nor  so  regardless  of  my 
own  comfort,  as  to  long  leave  myself  standing  "  by 
the  light  of  a  blown-out  candle"  down  among  the 
dead  men.  The  situation  for  a  few  seconds  was  not 
a  pleasant  one.  Psychologists  assert  that  just  before 
death,  and  particularly  in  cases  of  sudden  death,  the 
whole  past  is  spread  like  a  picture  before  the  "  mind's 
eye  "  of  the  dying  man.  Something  akin  to  this,  an 
indescribable  sensation,  as  if  in  that  moment  I  lived 
over  again  years  long  since  gone  into  that  past 
"where  the  shadows  lie,"  I  experienced  for  an  in- 
stant, as  I  stood  bewildered  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
darkness  and  the  strangeness  of  the  situation.  The 
past  and  present — friends  living  and  dead — father, 
mother,  sisters,  and  brother,  and  a  paje-faced  little  girl 
I  knew  and  loved  in  boyhood — all  presented  them- 
selves in  that  instant  before  me,  but  all  confusedly 
mingled  together.  It  did  not  continue  long,  however, 
probably  not  a  tenth  part  of  the  time  it  has  required 
to  describe  it ;  for,  bethinking  me  of  my  prudent  sup- 
ply of  wax  matches,  I  lighted  one  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible, and  taking  two  or  three  steps  backward,  relight- 
ed my  candle,  and,  without  stopping  to  make  any 
more  solitary  explorations,  turned  into  the  main  ave- 
nue, where  I  had  left  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  to  my 


"down  among  the  dead  men."  257 

great  joy  saw  them,  with  their  gleaming  lights,  halted 
only  a  few  yards  in  advance.  I  joined  them  as  quick- 
ly as  possible,  and  determined  not  to  leave  them  again 
during  the  rest  of  the  excursion. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  these  subterranean  tombs 
the  bones  gathered  from  the  different  cemeteries  are 
placed  together,  with  a  slab  in  the  wall  indicating 
whence  they  came — they  having  been  taken  from  fif- 
teen or  twenty  different  places.  Besides  these,  every 
few  feet  Tire  inscriptions  such  as  these  set  into  the  wall 
of  skulls  and  bones : 

"  La  mort  nous  confonde  tons  sous  un  meme  niveau; 
la  distance  des  ranges  se perd  dans  le  tombeau" — "  Death 
sinks  us  all  to  the  same  level,  and  the  differences  of 
rank  are  lost  in  the  tomb." 

How  particularly  true  we  can  realize  this  to  be 
here,  where  noble  and  beggar,  priest  and  layman,  old 
and  young,  are  huddled  together  in  a  common  pile. 
Here  is  a  solemn  appeal : 

"  Venez,  gens  du  monde,  dans  ces  demeures  silencieuses, 
et  voire  tranquilite  sera  frappe  de  la  voix  qui  s'eleve  de 
leur  inter  ieur" — "Come,  people  of  the  world,  into  these 
silent  retreats,  and  your  tranquillity  will  be  disturbed 
by  the  voice  which  comes  up  from  them." 

"Heureux  celui  qui  a  toujours  devant  sesyeux,  Vheure 
de  sa  mort" — "Happy  is  he  who  has  ever  before  his 
eyes  the  hour  of  his  death." 


258       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

In  some  places  a  number  of  skulls,  arranged  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  are  set  into  the  wall.  Frequently  we 
saw  skulls  through  which  bullets  had  passed,  and 
others  which  had  been  trepanned,  and  particularly  in 
the  pile  containing  the  bones  of  those  who  were  killed 
in  the  various  revolutions,  we  found  many  shattered 
ones.  One  which  occupies  a  prominent  position,  be- 
ing placed  by  itself  on  the  top  of  the  wall  above  all 
the  rest,  is  celebrated  for  containing  a  complete  and 
beautiful  set  of  teeth.  All  are  very  brown,  but  ap- 
parently in  a  good  state  of  preservation,  and  look- 
ing as  though  they  might  last  yet  for  centuries,  per- 
haps till  the  great  day  of  resurrection,  when  they  shall 
be  revivified.  And  so  we  passed  through  about  three 
miles  of  bones  piled  up  on  either  side,  stopping  occa- 
sionally to  read  any  inscriptions,  and  examine  any 
that  offered  striking  peculiarities.  Several  of  my 
companions,  who  were  medical  students,  although 
there  were  notices  posted  at  frequent  intervals  re- 
questing visitors  to  touch  nothing,  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  gather  some  specimen,  and  each  one 
came  up  provided  with  a  femur  or  tibia,  or  at  least  a 
tooth.  One  young  gentleman  indeed,  more  enterpris- 
ing than  the  rest,  "prigged"  an  entire  skull.  In  the 
course  of  our  walk  we  came  to  a  well  of  pure  water, 
which  has  now  been  inclosed  with  a  wall,  in  which 
several  gold-fish  have   been  placed,  and  which  live 


"DOWN    AMONG    THE    DEAD    MEN."  259 

there,  but  do  not  spawn.  The  spring,  which  was  dis- 
covered by  some  workmen,  was  originally  named  the 
"Source  d'Oubli,"  the  "Spring  of  Forgetful n ess ;" 
but  it  is  now  known  as  the  "  Fontaine  de  la#  Samari- 
taine,"  an  inscription,  the  words  of  Christ  to  the  Sa- 
maritan woman,  having  been  placed  upon  it. 

After  passing  the  fountain,  we  traversed  half  a 
mile  more  of  these  galleries,  till  we  at  length  came  to 
a  circular  stairway,  which  we  began  to  ascend,  and  by 
which  we  emerged  again  into  the  clear,  bright  day- 
light, as  we  all  supposed,  at  the  same  place  at  which 
we  had  descended.  In  this,  however,  we  were  mis- 
taken, for  we  found  ourselves  in  a  different  portion  of 
Paris,  nearly  a  mile  from  where  we  had  gone  down, 
but  glad  enough  to  see  sunshine,  and  breathe  fresh  air, 
and  get  into  the  living,  upper  world  again,  after  our 
exploration  of  more  than  an  hour's  duration  among 
the  dead. 

Before  the  Catacombs  were  appropriated  to  their 
present  use,  they  were  the  haunts  of  thieves  and  rob- 
bers, who  there  deposited  their  booty,  and  hid  them- 
selves, when  pursued  by  justice;  and  it  is  said  that 
even  now  there  are  secret  entrances,  unknown  to  the 
police  or  to  the  engineers,  which  are  made  use  of  by 
felons  for  concealment.  Several  persons  have  been 
lost  in  these  labyrinths  and  never  found;  and  only  a 
year  since,  two  workmen,  who  descended  for  the  pur- 


260       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

pose  of  making  some  repairs,  had  a  narrow  escape 
from  an  awful  death.  It  seems  they  only  took  with 
them  an  open  light,  which  was  extinguished  by  a  gust 
of  wind,  and,  having  no  means  of  relighting  their  can- 
dle, they  groped  about  in  the  darkness  for  nearly  two 
days  and  nights — all  night  to  them.  When  they  had 
been  down  more  than  forty  hours,  they  gave  up  all 
hope,  and  lay  down  exhausted  and  groaning. 

Fortunately  they  had  groped  their  way,  without 
knowing  it,  near  to  one  of  the  ventilators  in  a  street 
near  the  garden  of  the  Luxembourg,  at  least  two  miles 
from  where  they  entered.  Some  person  passing  by 
hearing  a  succession  of  low,  stifled  moans,  went  to  the 
police  station  close  at  hand,  and  gave  the  information, 
when  a  party  of  men  was  sent  down,  who  rescued  the 
poor  workmen,  then  in  an  utter  state  of  exhaustion 
and  hopelessness,  from  a  horrible  death.  I  am  in- 
clined to  believe  there  will  yet  be  some  terrible  acci- 
dent— a  caving  in  of  the  streets  and  buildings  above 
these  passages;  and  with  the  general  good  care  with 
which  the  French  Government  protects  the  lives  of 
its  subjects,  it  is  a  little  surprising  that  visitors  are 
permitted  to  expose  themselves  by  descending  into 
the  Catacombs  merely  to  gratify  their  curiosity. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE  CHIFFONNIERS  OF  PARIS. 

Their  Mode  of  Life,  and  what  they  find. — The  "  Ilasard  de  la  Four- 
chette." — Dilapidated  Lorettes. — Objects  found  in  the  Streets  and 
public  Carriages. — Honesty  of  the  Chiffonniers. — An  independent 
Rag-picker.  — The  Ravageors. 

I"N  most  of  the  cities  of  the  world,  rag-picking,  and 
-*-  the  gathering  up  of  such  articles  of  small  value  as 
are  thrown  in  the  streets,  is  a  dernier  resort,  and  the 
occupation  of  beggars.  In  Paris  it  is  an  acknowl- 
edged "profession,"  recognized,  and,  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent, encouraged  by  the  municipal  government.  Its 
members,  although  not  usually  addicted  to  'patchouli 
or  euu  de  cologne,  nor  models  of  elegance  either  in 
dress  or  manners,  still  manage  to  keep  tolerably  clean, 
and  pride  themselves  upon  their  independent  mode 
of  life,  which  is  under  the  control  of  no  master  but 
their  appetites.  They  are  a  singular  race,  these  noc- 
turnal Bohemians,  forming  a  community  of  their 
own,  and  exhibiting  a  curious  phase  of  life  in  this  cu- 
rious city. 

In  Paris,  between  dark  and  daylight,  families  arc 
permitted  to  place  the  rubbish  which  has  accumulated 


262        AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

iii  the  day's  household  labor  in  little  piles  in  the 
street  before  the  door,  and  these  are  gathered  up  in 
the  morning  by  the  rubbish  carts  after  they  have  been 
raked  by  the  chiffonniers.  About  ten  o'clock  at  night 
these  nocturnal  philosophers  start  upon  their  rounds, 
the  utensils  of  labor  of  each  being  a  willow  basket, 
holding  from  one  to  two  bushels,  which  is  carried 
strapped  to  the  back,  a  stick  about  a  yard  in  length 
with  a  sharp  hook  at  the  end  of  it,  and  a  lantern  sus- 
pended by  a  piece  of  wire  sufficiently  long  to  permit  its 
holder  to  carry  the  light  close  to  the  ground.  I  have 
often  watched  with  interest  the  artistic  manner  in 
which  one  of  these  chevaliers  extracts  the  valuables 
from  a  pile  of  dirt.  The  lantern  is  held  in  the  left 
hand,  while,  with  the  hook  in  the  right,  the  rubbish  is 
scattered.  No  rag,  however  diminutive  or  dirty,  no 
piece  of  bone,  no  cork,  no  bit  of  glass,  not  even  a  scrap 
of  paper,  escapes  the  sharp  eye  of  the  rag-picker.  All 
is  fish  which  comes  to  his  net;  and  every  thing  in 
the  heap  which  possesses  the  slightest  value  is  taken 
up  with  the  hook  and  thrown  over  his  back  into  the 
basket ;  then,  carrying  his  lantern  close  to  the  ground 
in  order  that  he  may  discover  any  stray  valuables 
which  may  happen  to  be  lying  in  the  gutter,  he  starts 
off  for  another  pile  of  dirt.  After  making  theirrounds 
at  night,  about  one  o'clock  the  chiffonniers  usually 
enter  some  of  the  low  wine-shops  in  the  neighborhood 


THE   CHIFFONNIERS   OF   PARIS.  263 

of  the  market-houses,  where  they  drink  the  wretched 
stuff  to  which,  in  their  energetic  language,  they  have 
given  the  name  of  casse  poitrine.  Here  they  remain, 
catching  a  nap  between  drinks,  until  nearly  daylight, 
when  those  who  are  not  too  drunk  go  their  round 
again,  reaching  home  about  nine  o'clock,  after  selling 
the  product  of  their  labor  to  the  chiffonniers  en  gros. 

These  wholesale  rag-merchants  have  vast  maga- 
zines in  the  quarters  inhabited  by  the  rag-pickers,  and 
employ  a  large  force  of  men  and  women  to  assort, 
divide,  and  place  in  separate  piles  articles  of  the  same 
nature,- and  these  people  labor  twelve  hours  a  day  for 
about  thirty  sous,  in  an  atmosphere  poisoned  by  the  ex- 
halations of  putrefying  flesh,  greasy  rags,  and  cast-off 
clothing,  compared  to  which  the  smell  in  a  dissecting- 
room  is  like  a  puff  of  wind  from  the  Spice  Islands,  or 
a  breeze  wafting  on  its  wings  the  odors  of  Araby  the 
blest.  It  is  only  the  old  and  infirm,  or  those  who  for 
some  other  cause  are  disqualified  for  active  duties, 
who  adopt  this  profession  of  a  trilleur,  as  a  means  of 
livelihood,  as  all  greatly  prefer  the  more  free  and  in- 
dependent life  of  the  chiffonnier. 

Three-fifths  of  the  chiffonniers  are  between  seven- 
teen and  thirty-five  years  of  age  ;  and  down  in  the 
narrow,  dirty  cellars  of  the  Quarto  r  Moi/j/'r/ard,  and  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  old  Barriere  des  Deux  Moidins,  where 
the  sunshine  never  comes,  and  where  the  very  air  is 


264        AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

fetid  with  the  exhalations  of  the  pickings  of  the  gut- 
ter, these  people  sleep  huddled  together,  without  dis- 
tinction of  age  or  sex,  in  rooms  where  they  pay  three 
or  four  sous  for  lodging.  A  few  elderly  couples  live 
together,  and  have  a  sort  of  house-keeping  arrange- 
ment, but  the  majority  eat  in  the  wretched  cook- 
shops,  where  for  five  sous  they  procure  a  meal,  con- 
sisting of  a  plate  of  soup,  and  a  stew  of  suspicious 
beef,  or  mutton,  which  perhaps  never  wore  horns, 
and  never  gave  up  the  ghost  in  "  the  regular  way." 
In  one  of  these  places  where  the  rag-pickers  feed,  a 
curious  sort  of  lottery,  called  the  hasard  de  la  fourcJiette, 
is  carried  on,  which  at  the  same  time  enables  these 
people  to  gratify  their  appetite  with  tempting  bits  of 
food,  and  to  woo  the  fickle  goddess  Fortune.  The 
proprietor  of  this  "  institution "  purchases  daily,  by 
the  bucketful,  from  the  cooks  and  waiters  of  restau- 
rants, the  pieces  which  are  left  upon  the  plates  of  cus- 
tomers, and  all  these,  jumbled  together,  are  placed  in 
a  large  iron  pot  filled  up  with  water,  and  boiled  into 
a  savory  soup.  Each  fellow  desirous  of  trying  his 
luck  pays  two  sous,  and  then,  seizing  a  long  fork 
which  reaches  to  the  bottom  of  the  kettle,  is  permit- 
ted to  make  one  "stab  in  the  dark" — but  only  one; 
whatever  he  brings  up  from  the  abyss  is  his.  It  may 
be  a  delicate  piece  of  chicken  truffe,  a  slice  of  beef,  a 
bit  of  pate  defoiegras;  it  may  be  only  a  potato,  and 


THE   CHIFFONNIERS   OF   PARIS.  265 

possibly  nothing  at  all ;  in  any  case,  however,  the 
diver  is  entitled  to  a  dish  of  the  soup,  which,  made 
from  such  a  variety  of  meats  and  vegetables,  ought 
certainly  to  be  delicious. 

Among  the  articles  gathered  by  the  chiffonniers 
are  the  following,  with  the  prices  at  which  they  are 
sold :  old  paper,  torn  and  dirty,  four  francs  the  hun- 
dred pounds  ;  gros  de  Paris  (sack  and  packing  cloth), 
four  francs  the  hundred ;  gros  de  campagne  (cotton  and 
colored  rags),  nine  francs;  gros  bid  (linen  rags),  coarse 
and  dirty),  ten  francs ;  bid  (cleaner  linen  rags),  thir- 
teen francs ;  blanc  sale  (clean  cotton  rags),  seventeen 
francs;  blanc  fin  (clean  linen  rags),  twenty-two  francs; 
woollen  rags,  bones,  old  leather,  broken  glass,  old  iron, 
etc.,  are  classified  apart ;  corks  are  usually  exchanged 
for  drink  ;  and  the  ta§te  for  smoking,  in  which  both 
sexes  indulge,  is  gratified  from  the  ample  store  of  ci- 
gar-stumps which  the  chiffonniers  pick  up  in  their  per- 
grinations.  It  is  said,  indeed,- that  gentlemen  who  still 
retain  sufficient  confidence  to  permit  them  to  purchase 
ready  -  made  cigarettes,  not  unfrequently  inhale  the 
mild  fragrance  of  second-hand  cigars,  which,  having 
been  thrown  away  by  their  original  proprietors,  after- 
ward form  part  of  the  contents  of  the  chiffonniers 
basket. 

There  are  in  Paris  about  four  hundred  chiffonniers. 
Two  hundred  and  seventy  are  males,  and  one  hun- 

12 


266       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROrE. 

dred  and  thirty  females ;  among  them  may  be  found 
persons  of  all  ages,  from  children  of  both  sexes  nine 
and  ten  years  old,  up  to  old  men  and  women  of  seven- 
ty. The  community  of  chiffonniers  is  divided  into 
two  classes — first,  those  who  have  been  brought  up 
and  educated  in  the  business,  who  having  a  distaste 
for  ordinary  labor  and  a  liking  for  an  independent,  care- 
less life,  constitute  its  aristocracy,  and  feel  a  sort  of 
pride  in  the  fact  that  no  member  of  their  family  "for 
many  generations  has  ever  been  obliged  to  "work 
for  a  living,"  and,  secondly,  men  and  women,  some- 
times persons  of  education  and  refinement,  who  have 
seen  better  days,  who,  by  their  own  imprudence  or 
misfortunes,  have  descended  in  the  social  scale  until 
they  have  reached  the  lowest  round  of  the  ladder. 
Indeed,  it  is  said  that  there  isnow  in  Paris  the  son 
of  a  marquis  whose  vices  and  habits  have  finally  led 
him  to  abandon  name,  family,  and  rank  lor  this 
wretched  life.  Many  of  the  women  are  dilapidated 
"lorettes;"  and  an  officer  once  pointed  out  to  me, 
picking  rags  and  bones  from  a  pile  of  rubbish  with 
the  hook  of  the  chiffbnmer,  a  woman,  who,  twenty 
years  ago,  was  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  demi-monde, 
who  no  doubt  was  then  "  gay  in  silks  and  laces,"  and 
had  noble  suitors  wooing  at  her  feet.  It  was  difficult 
to  detect  a  single  trace  of  former  beauty  in  those  pre- 
maturely old  and  bloated  features.     But  that  disgust 


THE   CHIFFOKNTERS   OF   PARIS.  267 

ino*  wretch  was  nevertheless  Adele  P ,  who  once 

made  half  Paris  mad  with  her  seductive  beauty.     Sic 
transit  gloria  muncli. 

Before  a  chiffonnier  is  permitted  to  enter  upon  the 
active  duties  of  the  "  profession,"  he  is  required  to 
obtain  a  license,  for  which  he  pays  a  small  sum, 
and  the  fact  of  having  which  he  renders  patent  by 
wearing  a  brass  medal  upon  his  breast.  No  person 
who  has  received  a  judicial  condemnation  can  obtain 
a  chiffonnier 's  license,  and  it  is  said  that  crimes,  of  a 
character  which  would  subject  its  members  to  the 
penalty  of  the  law,  are  almost  unknown  in  this  lowest 
order  of  industry.  They  are  rarely  brought  before 
the  judicial  tribunals,  and,  indeed,  as  a  class,  have  a 
very  decided  reputation  for  probity.  In  such  an  im- 
mense city  as  Paris,  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  a 
great  number  of  articles,  of  almost  every  description, 
are  lost  daily.  According  to  the  French  law,  the  find- 
er of  any  such,  if  he  keep  them,  renders  himself  liable 
to  punishment  for  larceny.  A  person  finding  any  ar- 
ticle of  appreciable  value  is  required  to  deposit  it  im- 
mediately with  the  Commissary  of  Police  of  his  quar- 
ter, who  gives  him  a  receipt  for  it,  and  at  the  same 
time  makes  a  register  of  his  name  and  address.  It  is 
then  taken  to  the  Prefecture,  where,  it  is  deposited 
with  other  articles  of  its  kind,  and  where  it  awaits 
recognition  and  ownership  for  the  term  of  a  year  and 


268       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

a  day ;  at  the  expiration  of  which  period,  the  owner 
not  having  appeared,  it  is  surrendered  to  the  finder 
upon  presentation  of  the  receipt.  Every  week  a  list 
of  the  articles  found  and  deposited  is  published  in  the 
Moniteur.  The  following  is  a  list  of  one  week's  treas- 
ure trove  deposited  at  the  Prefecture  of  Police : 

A  silver  soup-spoon,  bearing  two  initials,  one  of  which  is 
L ;  found  at  Clichy. 

Two  bank-bills;  found  the  13th:  one  opera-glass,  found  on 
the  19th  in  a  theatre. 

A  gold  watch  ;  found  at  Bercy  on  the  22d. 

A  sum  of  25  francs ;  found  on  the  25th  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Chateau  cVEau. 

A  porte-monnaie,  containing  27  francs  and  30  centimes; 
found  on  the  26th  in  the  Quartier  du  Val  de  Grace. 

A  thread  purse,  containing  18  francs  and  25  centimes,  and  a 
carriage  number ;  found  the  27th. 

An  old  porte-monnaie,  containing  20  francs  10  centimes,  and 
a  key ;  found  the  25th. 

A  bunch  of  ten  keys  in  a  ring ;  found  the  25th  near  the 
Porte  St.  Martin. 

A  barrel  of  brandy  and  a  cask  of  wine. 

A  gold  watch ;  found  the  25th  in  the  Quartier  Place  Ven- 
doine ;  a  bunch  of  seven  keys,  of  which  one  is  a  watch-key. 

A  piece  of  20  francs ;  found  in  a  wine-merchant's. 

A  gold  watch-chain  ;  found  near  the  Bourse. 

A  sleeve-button ;  found  in  the  Quartier  St.  Georges. 

Two  gold  breastpins ;  one  enamelled,  with  pearls. 

A  set  of  false  teeth  ! 

A  packet  of  dirty  linen,  marked  with  two  initials,  one  of 
which  is  G. 

A  milliner-box,  containing  several  bonnets  and  other  objects. 

Forty  francs,  given  by  mistake  at  the  door  of  a  theatre. 

The  chtffonniers,  whose   business  takes  them  out 


THE  CHIFF0NNIER3    OF   PARIS.  269 

early  and  late,  and  whose  lanterns  are  always  carried 
near  the  ground,  on  which  their  gaze  is  bent,  are  of 
course  more  liable  than  any  other  class  of  men  to  pick 
up  these  lost  objects,  many  of  which  are  found  in  the 
heaps  of  rubbish  thrown  out  in  front  of  houses,  and 
every  day  these  roving  philosophers  may  be  seen 
coming  to  the  offices  of  the  Commissioners  of  Police, 
bringing  silver  spoons,  watches,  pocket-books,  and 
other  articles  of  value. 

A  feeling  of  independence,  and  a  decided  objection 
to  being  considered  mendicants,  is  joined  with  this 
probity.  I  proved  this  one  evening  soon  after  my  ar- 
rival in  Paris,  when,  strolling  with  a  friend  just  after 
dark  in  the  Eue  St.  Jacques,  then  swarming  like  a 
beehive  with  ouvriers  and  working-girls  returning 
from  their  labor,  I  met  a  ragged  Diogenes  scattering 
with  his  hook  a  pile  of  rubbish.  TVe  paused  to  ad- 
mire the  artistic  manner  in  which  he  picked  up  every 
thing  possessing  the  slightest  value,  and  I  asked  him 
some  questions.  He  informed  me  that  he  had  a  fam- 
ily, all  of  whom  were  engaged  in  the  same  occupation, 
and  finished  by  inviting  me  to  come  and  see  him  at 
his  residence  in  the  Cite"  Doro,  near  the  Barriere  des 
Deux  Moulins.  This  man  was  evidently  one  of  those 
who  "had  seen  better  days;"  and  feeling  a  natural  pity 
for  the  misfortunes  which  had  brought  him  to  this 
pass,  and  willing  to  reward  him  for  the  information 


270        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

he  bad  given  me,  I  offered  him  a  ten-sou  piece.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  look  of  pride  'which,  shone 
through  his  dirty  face  and  unkempt  beard,  as  he  drew 
himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  saying  "  I  am  not  a 
beggar,  sir!"  marched  off  at  a  rapid  pace. 

Besides  the  articles  found  upon  the  streets,  many 
are  left  in  the  public  carriages,  and  are  returned  by 
the  drivers  every  week.  Upon  entering  a  cab  in 
Paris,  one  receives  from  the  driver  a  little  card,  con- 
taining his  rates  of  fare  and  the  number  of  the  vehicle. 
This,  being  kept,  is  a  great  check  upon  the  driver  in 
case  he  were  inclined  to  be  dishonest.  The  following 
is  the  list,  appended  to  the  one  above,  of  objects  found 
in  the  public  carriages : 

Nineteen  francs,  change  for  a  piece  of  20  francs ;  received 
for  one  franc  the  26th. 
An  Italian  medal. 

Nine  francs  fifty  centimes  ;  received  for  50  centimes. 
A  porte-monnaie  containing  nearly  500  francs. 
Ten  francs. 
A  lady's  brooch. 
A  black  opera-glass. 
A  lorgnette,  with  a  long  chain. 
A  basket  containing  200  eggs. 
Seven  opera-glasses. 
A  lady's  petticoat ! 
A  valise,  locked  with  a  key. 
A  piece  of  20  francs ;  received  for  1  franc. 

There  is  still  a  lower  order  of  chiffonniers,  who, 
however,  are  not  acknowledged  as  legitimate  mem- 


THE    CHIPFONNIEKS    OF    PAK1S.  271 

bers  of  the  profession.  These  are  miserable  wretches, 
who  never  succeed  in  scraping  together  a  sufficient 
amount  of  capital  to  purchase  a  hook  and  basket,  but 
who  carry  on  their  backs  an  old  dirty  sack,  and  who 
pick  up  whatever  the  genuine  chiffonniers  leave — 
scraps  of  bread,  decaying  vegetables,  and  pieces  of 
meat,  from  which  they  make  a  miserable  meal. 

Still  another  independent  artist  is  the  ravageur. 
Formerly,  when  the  streets  of  Paris  had  but  one  gut- 
ter running  through  the  middle  of  them,  these  men 
did  quite  a  thriving  business  in  gathering  up  nails, 
and  old  pieces  of  iron  and  copper.  Now  their  labors 
are  confined  to  the  river-banks  when  the  water  is  low. 
The  sewers  all  pour  their  dirty  streams  into  the  Seine, 
and  bear  along  with  them  considerable  quantities  of 
old  iron  and  lead,  and  occasional  knives  and  forks 
and  spoons,  which  settle  on  the  bottom  or  are  caught 
upon  the  banks.  When  the  river  falls,  the  ravageur 
spends  his  days  in  digging  and  gathering  pans  full  of 
earth,  which  he  washes  for  the  debris  which  settles  at 
the  bottom.  How  he  lives  during  high  water  it  is 
difficult  to  say,  unless  it  be  that  he  spends  the  time  in 
praying  that  the  river  may  fall,  and  the  banks  be  left 
dry. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

VISIT   TO   THE   CHAPEL   OF   THE   TUILERIES. 

The  Imperial  Chapel. — The  Emperor  and  Empress  at  their  Devo- 
tions.— The  Emperor. — The  Empress. 

"TTAYINGr  frequently  seen  their  Majesties  at  the 

-*—■-  opera  and  at  the  theatre,  and  riding  in  the  Bois 

de  Boulogne,  and  once  or  twice  dancing  at  the  Grand 

Balls  at  the  Tuileries,  I  had  a  curiosity  to  observe 

them  at  their  devotions.     Without  much  difficulty  I 

procured  a  ticket  for  the  Imperial  Chapel  for  nryself 

and  three  friends.     The  ticket,  like  every  thing  of 

that  kind  in  Paris,  was  of  a  size  which  rendered  its 

being  pushed  through  the  aperture  of  any  ordinary 

pocket   an  impossibility.      It  was  in   the  following 

terms : 

"  Chapel  du  Palais  des  Tuileries. 

"  Entree  pour  le  Dimanche  de  paques — Messe  a  midi.    Mon- 
sieur   .     En  frac." 

"  (Signed)       Le  Grand  Chambellast,  Due  de  Bassano." 

Some  printed  instructions  accompanied  the  ticket, 
stating  that  "  gentlemen  would  appear  in  dress-coats, 
and  black  pantaloons  or  knee-breeches."  Having 
long  since  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  I  was  not 


VISIT  TO  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  TUILERTES.      273 

calculated  to  make  an  impression  "  in  tights,"  I  dress- 
ed in  the  ordinary  full  evening  costume,  and  a  little 
before  eleven  o'clock  drove  into  the  Place  Caroussel, 
to  the  door  of  the  ante-room  of  the  chapel,  which  is 
the  next  toward  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  beyond  the  prin- 
cipal entrance  to  the  Palace,  beneath  the  Tour  de 
THorloge.  In  the  ante-room  there  were  already  a 
number  of  persons  waiting,  and  I  was  amused  to  ob- 
serve the  utter  disregard  which  had  been  paid  to  the 
instructions  relative  to  costume.  Of  the  whole  num- 
ber, there  were  not  more  than  a  dozen  gentlemen  in 
"full  dress;"  some  had  black  cravats,  many  dark 
gloves,  not  a  few  turn-over  collars  and  scarfs,  and  one 
sturdy -looking  individual,  with  a  red  face  and  burly 
person,  was  gorgeously,  if  not  very  appropriately,  at- 
tired in  a  frock-coat,  brown  pantaloons,  and  sky-blue 
gloves. 

At  eleven  o'clock,  an  under -chamberlain,  in  a 
green  dress-coat,  and  black  velvet  knee-breeches  and 
sword,  after  collecting  our  tickets,  opened  the  door 
and  ushered  us  into  the  chapel.  This  is  small,  and 
plainly  constructed,  capable  of  seating  about  two  hun- 
dred persons.  In  the  body  of  the  chapel  I  noticed 
some  twenty  or  thirty  seats,  covered  with  crimson 
velvet,  and  in  front  of  these  half  a  dozen  velvet  cush- 
ioned chairs,  with  a  prie  Dieu  before  each.  A  gallery 
supported  by  massive  pillars  occupied   three   sides, 

L2* 


274       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

while  that  part  directly  facing  the  altar  was  trimmed 
with  crimson  velvet  studded  with  golden  bees,  the 
emblem  of  the  Napoleonic  dynasty.  This  was  the 
state  pew,  where  only  the  Emperor  and  Empress  sat, 
and  knelt  at  the  performance  of  their  weekly  devo- 
tions. Over  the  altar-,  which  was  very  simple,  was  a 
fine  life-size  painting  of  the  Assumption,  on  the  right 
an  "  Annunciation,"  and  around  the  walls  were  sev- 
eral excellent  religious  pictures.  As  we  entered,  a 
servant  of  the  palace,  in  livery,  was  engaged  in  light- 
ing the  candles  before  the  altar.  Afterward  he  lit  the 
candles  in  a  dozen  glass  candelabras,  suspended  from 
the  gallery ;  and  as  it  was  a  rainy  and  sombre  day, 
this  light  produced  a  very  pleasing  effect. 

Fortunately,  the  seats  in  the  body  of  the  chapel 
were  filled  before  we  entered,  so  that  we  were  obliged 
to  take  seats  under  one  of  the  side  galleries.  These 
proved  to  be  the  best,  as  from  them  we  could  see 
their  Majesties  during  the  entire  service,  without 
turning  round.  At  a  little  before  twelve  o'clock,  an 
opening  of  doors  and  a  rustling  of  silks  were  heard, 
and  in  a  moment  the  ladies  of  the  Court  and  the  offi- 
cers of  the  Imperial  household  entered  and  took  their 
seats  in  one  of  the  side  galleries,  first  kneeling  and 
making  the  sign  of  the  cross.  A  few  minutes  more, 
and  there  was  another  banging  of  doors,  and  from  the 
state  pew  above  we  heard  announced,  in  a  loud  voice, 


VISIT  TO  THE  CHAPEL  OF  THE  TUILERIES.      275 

"  L'Empereur."  At  the  same  moment  the  organ 
struck  up,  and  the  choir  commenced  the  Kyrie  Eld- 
son.  Every  body  rose,  and  all  eyes  were  bent  upon 
the  Imperial  pew.  Their  Majesties  entered,  and  com- 
ing forward,  knelt,  crossed  themselves,  and  opened 
their  prayer-books.  The  Empress  looked  handsome, 
but  very  pale  and  sad.  After  she  was  seated,  the 
high  front  of  the  pew  almost  hid  her,  and  only  her 
face,  arms,  hands,  and  bonnet  could  be  seen.  She  was 
dressed  in  white,  and  wore  a  white  bonnet  fringed 
with  swan-down,  tied  with  a  big  bow  of  white  rib- 
bon, and  she  wore  lead-colored  gloves.  Just  as  she 
entered,  she  caught  the  eye  of  one  of  the  ladies  in  the 
gallery  on  her  left,  to  whom  she  smilingly  nodded ; 
then  turned  to  the  Emperor  and  said  something,  at 
which  he  smiled,  and  then  they  both  fell  to  their 
prayer-books. 

The  Emperor  was  dressed  in  his  military  uniform 
of  general-of-division,  and  wore  white  gloves.  He 
looked  exceedingly  well,  and  his  long,  pointed  mus- 
tache had  evidently  been  handled  that  morning  with 
more  than  ordinary  care.  He  yet  bore  that  grim, 
half-shy,  unreadable  expression  of  countenance  for 
which  he  is  noted. 

During  the  entire  service,  through  most  of  which 
he  knelt,  he  did  not  appear  to  be  in  a  mood  particu- 
larly devotional,  and  most  of  the  time  was  engaged 


276       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

in  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  prayer-book,  either 
trying  to  find  "the  place  "  or  looking  at  the  pictures. 
Often,  as  a  sweet  strain  rose  from  a  clear  soprano 
voice  singing  the  solos  of  the  mass,  he  would  look 
up,  and  bend  his  ear  toward  the  singer  as  if  listening 
with  pleasure,  and  then  his  eyes  were  bent  upon  the 
Cardinal-archbishop  and  his  two  assistants.  What 
could  he  have  been  thinking  about,  this  grim  Em- 
peror, with  the  sphinx-like  countenance  ?  Might  he 
not  have  been  amused  at  the  idea,  that  in  spite  of  the 
implied  and  real  abuse  which  he  was  continually  re- 
ceiving from  the  dignitaries  of  the  Church  for  having 
permitted  their  mother  to  be  despoiled  of  some  of  her 
fairest  domain,  he  had  before  him  a  cardinal,  and  two 
bishops  saying  mass,  and  ready  to  utter  the  prayers 
of  the  Church  in  his  behalf  and  to  call  down  Heav- 
en's blessings  on  his  head  ?  Was  he  indulging  in  a 
feeling  of  pride  at  the  thought  that  the  Head  of  the 
Church,  to  whose  beautiful  ritual  he  was  listening, 
would,  but  for  him  and  his  soldiers,  be  an  exile  and 
a  wanderer,  instead  of  being  seated  comfortably  in 
the  chair  of  St.  Peter?  Might  he  be  thinking  how 
best  to  cut  the  Gordian  knot,  and  solve  the  Roman 
difficulty?  Were  his  thoughts  leading  him  back  to 
the  prison  of  Ham,  and  the  land  in  which  he  had 
roamed  an  exile,  or  only  to  the  days  of  the  coup 
d'etat?     Was  he  thinking  of  the  battle-fields  of  Sol- 


VISIT  TO  THE  CHAPEL   UE  THE   TUILERIES.      277 

ferino,  and  the  interview  to  which  it  led  when  he,  the 
parvenu,  dictated  terms  of  peace  to  the  haughty  scion 
of  the  haughty  Hapsburgs?  Might  he  not  be  stray- 
ing in  the  pleasant  fields  of  earlier  memories,  and 
calling  up  again  the  happy  hours  of  childhood,  when, 
led  by  his  mother's  hand,  he  went  to  church,  and 
listened  to  this  same  beautiful  ritual  more  attentively 
than  now'?  Whatever  the  grim  and  sphinx-faced 
man  thought,  he  did  not  appear  to  pay  particular  at- 
tention to  his  prayers. 

The  Empress,  however,  read  her  prayers  attentive- 
ly and  devotedly,  her  lips  moving  as  she  did  so,  and 
once  she  uttered  the  "Amen"  audibly.  Sometimes, 
as  the  solemn  music  rose  and  swelled,  she  would  look 
up,  her  sweet,  sad  face  lighted  with  an  expression  al- 
most angelic ;  and  sometimes  she  seemed  for  a  mo- 
ment to  forget  herself,  and  would  bend  over  and  say 
something  to  the  Emperor,  who  responded  with  one 
of  liis  grim  smiles,  and  then  she  would  commence  again 
devouring  her  prayer-book.  The  mass  was  magnifi- 
ently  executed,  the  high  parts  being  sung  by  a  female 
voice,  which  is  an  unusual  occurrence  in  the  churches 
of  Paris,  where  boys  are  employed  for  the  treble  and. 
alto.  As  for  the  congregation,  it  was  engaged  most  of 
the  time  in  watching  the  countenances  of  the  Emperor 
and  Empress,  and  probably  not  a  very  large  amount 
of  religious  edification  or  comfort  was  the  result  of 


278       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

the  ceremony  to  any  of  us.  At  the  termination  of 
the  mass,  the  Cardinal-archbishop  read  the  prayer  for 
the  Emperor,  then,  turning  to  the  congregation,  gave 
the  Pax  Vobiscum,  then  bowed  to  the  altar,  then  turn- 
ing again,  bowed  to  the  Emperor,  who,  with  the  Em- 
press, rose  and  went  out,  and  the  religious  services  of 
the  day,  which  had  occupied  a  little  more  than  half  an 
hour,  were  over.  An  hour  afterward  their  Majesties 
and  the  Prince  Imperial  were  driving  through  the 
Champs  Elysees,  on  their  way  to  the  Bois  de  Bou- 
logne. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   CEMETERY   OF   PERE    LA   CHAISE. 

A  real  "City  of  the  Dead." — The  Jewish  Inclosure. — Tomb  of  Ra- 
chel.— Defacing  Monuments. — Abelard  and  Heloise. — The  Grave 
of  Marshal  Ney. — The  Artist's  Corner. — Vandael,  the  Flower-paint- 
er.— Singular  Inscriptions. — The  common  Graves. — How  the  Dead 
are  buried,  and  what  it  costs. — The  Aristocracy  and  Democracy  of 
Death.  —  "  Poor  little  Hunchback."  —  Respect  for  the  Dead.  — 
The  "Jour  des  Morts." — Mortuary  Statistics  of  Paris. 

npHE  Cemetery  of  P&re  la  Chaise  is  the  principal 
-*-  of  the  three  great  burial-grounds  in  which  those 
who  die  in  Paris  repose — the  city  of  the  dead,  located 
on  the  brow  of  a  hill  in  fearful  proximity  to  Paris, 
and  overlooking  it.  "  City  of  the  Dead !"  No  other 
cemetery  ever  seemed  so  well  to  deserve  this  title,  for 
its  grounds  are  laid  out  in  paved  and  curbed  streets 
and  grass-plots  and  gravelled  walks,  and  above  most 
of  the  family  vaults  rise  little  chapels  fifteen  or  twen- 
ty feet  in  height,  piled  in  thickly  as  the  buildings  in 
a  crowded  city's  street.  From  the  tomb-crowned 
heights  of  the  cemetery,  one  of  the  best  views  which 
can  be  obtained  from  the  surrounding  country  is  af- 
forded of  Paris,  which,  with  its  towering  monuments, 
archos,  and    domes,  its   streets    filled  with    busy  life, 


280       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

whence  rises  a  low  musical  hum  —  the  Seine,  look- 
ing like  a  silver  thread,  running  gracefully  through  it 
— lies  stretched  in  the  valley  below.  "What  a  point 
from  which  to  moralize — the  city  of  the  living,  seen 
from  the  city  of  the  dead!  A  few  years  since,  and 
those  whose  bones  are  now  mouldering  here  were 
bustling  through  those  busy  streets  yonder ;  and  a  few 
years  hence,  how  many  thousands  of  those  who  make 
up  the  population  of  that  gay  and  noisy  Paris  will 
be  lying  here  in  these  silent  halls. 

On  the  right  of  the  main  entrance  to  the  cemetery 
is  an  inclosure  set  apart  for  the  interment  of  Jews. 
At  the  other  extremity  is  another  for  Mussulmans,  and 
between  them  lie  those  who  have  had  "  Christian 
burial."  Until  within  a  few  years  past,  still  another 
piece  of  unconsecrated  ground  existed  in  which  Prot- 
estants were  interred,  and  it  is  only  in  the  cemeteries 
of  Paris  even  now  that  French  Protestants  are  per- 
mitted to  rest  in  soil  hallowed  by  the  rites  of  the 
Church.  In  the  Jewish  inclosure  are  the  tombs  of 
the  Rothschilds  and  other  celebrated  families,  but  the 
one  which  attracts  most  attention  is  that  of  Rachel. 
A  little  stone  chapel,  with  a  grated  door,  rises  above 
the  grave,  and  over  the  entrance  cut  in  the  stone  is 
the  name  "Rachel" — the  only  inscription  upon  the 
tomb  of  the  great  artist.  In  front  of  the  chapel  is  a 
little  flower-garden,  and  inside,  and  hanging  about  it, 


THE    CEMETERY    OF    PEKE    LA    CHAISE.  281 

are  several  wreaths  of  immortelles,  those  pious  offer- 
ings with  which  friends  deck  the  graves  of  their  loved 
ones,  and  which  are  annually  renewed  on  the  jour-  des 
morts.  Inside  the  chapel  is  a  basket  filled  with  visit- 
ing-cards, deposited  by  those  who  have  come  to  the 

tomb. 

In  this  cemetery  lie  Abelard  and  Heloise.  The 
unfortunate  lovers  are  reunited  now  in  a  tomb  taste- 
fully built  from  the  ruins  of  the  Paraclete,  which 
Abelard  founded,  and  of  which  Heloise  was  the  first 
abbess.  And  here,  at  the  grave  of  these  models  of 
earthly  constancy  and  heavenly  faith,  of  undying  af- 
fection and  holy  self-sacrifice,  despairing  lovers  and 
romantic  maidens  come  and  gaze  and  weep ;  and  on 
the  jour  des  morts,  whole  cart-loads  of  immortelles  are 
thrown  over  the  ugly  red  railing,  which  prevents  the 
too  earnest  admirers  of  the  stricken  pair  from  chip- 
ping off  pieces  of  the  tomb  as  mementoes. 

Close  by  the  magnificent  marble  monument — the 
finest  in  the  cemetery — erected  over  the  remains  of 
"Elizabeth,  Countess  de  Demidoff  nee  Baroness  de 
Strogonoff,"  is  a  little  inclosure,  surrounded  by  a  low 
iron  railing,  inside  of  which  is  a  small  garden.  Ivy 
creeps  over  and  twines  in  among  the  iron  rods  and 
green  grass,  and  freshly-sprung  flowers  cover  the 
ground  ;  but  there  is  no  inscription,  not  even  a  knoll, 
to  show  there  is  a  grave  theiv;   no  sign  by  which  a 


282        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

stranger  straying  among  these  tombs  would  ever  be 
led  to  imagine  that  within  the  little  green  space  lay 
the  man  who  received  from  Napoleon  himself  the 
title  of  "  the  bravest  of  the  brave."  Yes :  this  is 
the  grave  of  Marshal  Ney  1  A  full-length  statue 
of  him  has  been  erected  by  the  Government  upon 
the  spot  where  he  was  executed,  and  it  is  intended, 
I  believe,  ere  long  to  place  a  monument  above  his 
grave. 

Near  here  is  the  grave  of  Beranger — the  poet  of 
the  people — whose  songs  will  live  in  their  memories, 
and  be  transmitted  to  their  posterity,  as  long  as  the 
language  in  which  they  were  written  lasts.  The  mon- 
uments of  Massena,  Marshal  Davoust,  and-  General 
Foy  are  also  in  this  vicinity,  and  just  back  of  them 
the  sarcophagi  of  Moliere  and  La  Fontaine,  who  lie 
next  each  other,  as  do  Balzac  and  Souvestre,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  cemetery. 

Near  the  chapel,  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  overlooking 
the  whole  ground,  is  a  choice  collection  of  tombs  of 
some  of  the  world's  greatest  artists — painters,  authors, 
musicians,  and  actors.  Among  them  are  those  of  Bel- 
lini, Cherubini,  and  Boileau,  Talma  and  Bernardin  St. 
Pierre,  the  author  of  that  sweetest,  purest  specimen 
of  French  literature,  "Paul  and  Virginia."  In  search- 
ing about  one  day  for  these,  I  stumbled  accidentally 
upon   the  forlorn,  neglected-looking   grave  of  Jean 


THE    CEMETERY    OK    PERE    LA   CHAISE.  283 

Francois  Yandael,  an  artist  celebrated  for  his  flower- 
painting,  and  who  died  in  1840.  Upon  the  simple, 
humble  headstone  o'ergrown  with  moss,  so  that  it  was 
almost  illegible,  was  this  appeal  to  the  passer-by : 

"  Si  tu  viens  au  printcmps  dans  un  lieu  de  douleurs, 
Ami  des  arts,  tu  dois  le  tribut  d'une  rose 
A  ce  tombeau  modeste  oil  pour  jamais  repose 
La  cendre  de  Vandael  notre  peintre  des  fleurs." 

"Lover  of  art,  coming  in  the  spring-time  to  this  sad 
spot,  thou  owest  the  tribute  of  a  rose  to  this  modest 
tomb,  where  repose  the  ashes  of  Vandael,  our  flower- 
painter." 

Notwithstanding  this  touching  demand,  Vandael's 
grave  seems  completely  forsaken.  It  is  covered  with 
rankling  weeds,  and  its  decoration,  the  only  sign  of 
remembrance  about  it,  is  a  worn  and  weather-beaten 
immortelle,  which  looks  as  if  it  had  stood  the  storms 
of  at  least  a  dozen  winters.  I  had  no  rose  to  leave  as 
a  tribute,  so  I  plucked  a  sadly-drooping  wild  flower, 
bending  its  head  among  the  weeds  growing  on  the 
painter's  grave,  and  placed  it  as  a  memento  among 
my  souvenirs. 

The  youth  who,  after  reading  the  epitaphs  of  all 
the  good  and  pious  dead,  implored  his  mother  to  tell 
him  where  the  "  wicked  folks"  were  buried,  would  be 
as  much  at  a  loss  in  the  cemetery  of  Pere  la  Chaise," 
as  he  was  in  the  grave-yard  of  the  country  church. 


28J:       AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

If  the  inscriptions  upon  these  tombstones  may  be  be- 
lieved, nearly  all  who  lie  beneath  their  shadow  were 
either  the  "  best  of  husbands  "  or  "  wives,"  or  the 
"  most  dutiful  of  children,"  the  "  kindest  of  parents," 
"  truest  of  friends,"  or  of  the  "  most  excellent  and 
benevolent  dispositions."  "  Science  "  and  "  Eeligion 
weep,"  we  are  assured,  unceasingly,  over  the  memories 
of  many  of  the  dwellers  in  this  city,  and  the  grass 
upon  the  graves  of  others,  we  are  told,  is  to  be  kept 
green  by  the  tears  of  the  survivors.  Some  of  these 
tear-watered  graves  look  sadly  dry  and  neglected, 
moistened  only  by  the  Hand  which  causes  the  weep- 
ing clouds  to  descend  "  on  the  just  and  upon  the 
unjust." 

Upon  most  of  the  tombstones  is  inscribed,  "  Pray 
for  me ;"  and  in  accordance  with  the  Catholic  belief 
in  the  utility  of  prayers  in  behalf  of  those  who  have 
passed,  as  Protestants  think,  beyond  the  state  of  pro- 
bation, friends,  whenever  they  visit  the  tombs,  kneel 
before  them  and  send  up  to  Heaven  requests  that  the 
souls  which  once  inhabited  their  inmates  may  rest  in 
peace.  There  are  some  singular  inscriptions  to  be 
found  in  the  cemetery.  One  which  always  struck  me 
as  particularly  ridiculous,  and  always  brought  up  a 
smile,  even  among  the  graves,  is  that  upon  the  tomb  of 
an  aeronaut:  "Oh,  Charles!  the  aerostatique  science, 
which  thou  hast  created,  transported  thy  body  above 


THE   CEMETERY   OF   PERE   LA   CHAISE.  285 

the  clouds,  and  the  wisdom  of  Socrates  raised  thy 
soul  above  passion.  Thou  triedst  thy  flight  toward 
heaven  before  quitting  us  forever."  Upon  the  simple 
headstone  of  the  grave  of  Comte,  the  author  of  the 
"  System  of  Positive  Philosophy,"  is  inscribed  only 
"  Auguste  Comte  et  ses  trots  anges" — his  three  children 
being  buried  with  him.  Upon  one  bare  and  barren 
spot,  which  looks  as  though  it  might  well  be  the  last 
resting-place  of  one  who  left  not  a  single  friend  to 
plant  a  flower  or  hang  a  wreath,  is  a  headstone,  on 
which  is  simply  cut  "  Six  feet  of  earth — forever."  In 
one  of  the  most  public  avenues  is  a  tall  shaft,  sur- 
mounted by  a  torch,  "  Erected  to  the  memory  of 
Frederick  Albert  "Windsor,  the  originator  of  public 
gas-lighting;"  and  upon  the  tomb  of  a  merchant  near 
by  it  is  stated  that  "  he  was  an  active  man,  and  this 
is  the  first  time  he  ever  rested."  It  is  in  Pore  la 
Chaise,  also,  that  is  to  be  found  the  original  tribute  to 
her  dead  husband  of  the  "  inconsolable  widow  who 
carries  on  the  business  at  the  old  stand." 

What  extremes  meet  upon  this  common  ground ! 
Here  are  marshals  and  admirals  and  generals  and 
dukes  and  counts  and  statesmen  and  orators,  lying 
beneath  the  shadows  of  lofty  monuments,  and  here, 
next  to  them — almost  jolting  them — are  the  graves 
of  the  humble  dead — the  fosse  commune — where  the 
laboring  poor,  beggars  who  <li<'  in  the  streets,  and  un- 


286       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

claimed  unfortunates,  who  draw  their  last  breath  in 
the  hospitals,  are  interred  at  the  expense  of  the  Gov- 
ernment ;  for  as  it  interferes  in  all  the  affairs  of  life, 
so  the  Government  controls  the,  rites  which  follow 
death  itself. 

The  privilege  of  interring  the  dead  of  Paris  is' 
granted  to  an  organized  company,  called  the  Entre- 
prise  des  Pompes  Funebres,  which  pays  annually  a  large 
sum  for  the  exclusive  right.  None  but  a  representa- 
tive of  this  company  may  bury  a  body,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  those  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Imperial 
family,  every  body  residing  in  Paris  belongs  of  right, 
after  the  vital  spark  has  fled,  to  this  melancholy  mo- 
nopoly. An  agency  is  established  in  the  mayor's 
office  of  each  district,  at  which  applications  are  made 
for  the  performance  of  the  funeral  rites.  ,  In  answer 
to  this,  a  blank  is  furnished,  containing  the  items  of 
expenses  of  the  funeral  of  the  class  desired,  for,  in  or- 
der to  bring  the  privileges  of  death  and  burial  within 
the  means  of  all,  the  ceremonies  are  divided  into  nine 
different  classes.  The  first  of  these  complete,  inclu- 
ding all  the  religious  ceremonies,  which  themselves 
form  an  item  of  a  thousand  francs,  costs  10,869  francs. 
For  this  class  is  provided  a  magnificent  hearse  mount- 
ed with  silver,  and  nodding  plumes  of  black,  the  hearse 
being  drawn  by  six  black  horses,  richly  caparisoned  in 
solemn  livery  of  woe,  and  driven  by  men  dressed  in  the 


THE   CEMETERY   OF   PERE  LA   CHAISE.  287 

same  sombre  trappings.  Thirty  or  forty  carriages,  all 
of  which  are  covered  with  black  cloth,  are  furnished  ; 
the  church  at  which  the  religious  ceremonies  are  per- 
formed is  gorgeously  hung  with  black,  and  in  its  por- 
tal is  suspended  a  black  cloth,  upon  which,  in  silver 
thread,  is  wrought  the  initial  letter  of  the  deceased's 
name.  The  funeral  service  consists  of  a  high  mass ; 
the  cure  of  the  parish  is  himself  present,  with  eight- 
een priests  and  two  vicars  (the  cure's  presence  is 
charged  in  the  bill  at  sixteen,  each  of  the  vicars  at 
four,  and  each  of  the  priests  at  three  francs),  and  ev- 
ery thing  is  conducted  in  the  most  solemnly  splendid 
manner.  Descending  in  the  scale,  we  find  less  gaudy 
hearses,  and  fewer  horses  and  carriages,  and  a  smaller 
number  of  priests,  and  a  low  mass,  until  we  reach  the 
ninth  class,  or  lowest-priced  funeral,  which  costs  but 
six  francs  and  seventy-five  centimes,  and  is  conducted 
by  four  seedy-looking  individuals,  who  bear  to  its  last 
resting-place  the  body  of  the  dead  upon  their  shoul- 
ders. 

Throughout  the  different  classes  of  funerals,  the  re- 
ligious ceremonies  may  be  set  down  as  from  a  tenth 
to  a  twentieth  of  the  entire  cost.  A  considerable  por- 
tion of  these,  however,  may  be  dispensed  with ;  and, 
with  only  the  ordinary  and  necessary  ones,  the  cost 
of  the  nine  different  classes  of  Parisian  funerals  is 
•riven  on  the  following  page: 


288       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

1st  class 7000  to  7200  francs. 

2d  "  3000  to  3300  " 

3d  "  1600  to  1700  " 

4th  "  750  to    800  " 

5th  "  300  to    350  " 

6th    "  100  to    150  " 

7th  "  35  to      45  " 

8th  "  18  to      20  " 

9th  "  . 6  to        7  " 

The  burials  in  the  first  four  of  these  clashes  amount 
to  only  about  a  thousand  a  year,  and  produce  to  the 
company  a  revenue  of  1,500,000  francs  per  annum. 
Those  in  the  other  classes,  amounting  to  fourteen 
thousand,  produce  only  about  a  million. 

For  the  fifth  or  medium  class  funeral,  the  following 

are  the  items  for  religious  expenses ;  for  this  horrid 

bill  of  fare  is  always  made  up  in  true  Parisian  style, 

of  an  immense  number  of  items,  all  set  down  with  the 

greatest  degree  of  particularity  : 

Droit  curias  (the  fee  of  the  cure  of  the  parish)    .     .     .  Fr.  3.00 

Presence  of  one  vicar 1.50 

"         "  three  priests  a  1.25 3.75 

Receiver  of  convoy 1.00 

Un  enfant  de  choeur  (a  small  chorister) 50 

Sexton's  fee 75 

One  cross-bearer  (a  boy  belonging  to  the  sacristy)  .     .  1.00 

Low  mass 1.50 

A  priest  to  accompany  the  body  to  the  grave    .     .     .  8.00 

Small  chorister 1.00 

Beadle 1.00 

Candles  upon  the  altar 2.00 

Candles  around  the  altar 2.00 

Total Fr.  27.00 


THE  CEMETERY   OF   PERE    LA   CHAISE.  289 

There  is  no  limit  to  the  expense  of  funerals  in  Paris, 
as  an  additional  number  of  carriages  to  any  extent 
will  be  furnished  by  the  company,  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  sum  charged  for  each  class  complete  may 
be  materially  reduced  by  diminishing  the  number  of 
carriages,  pall-bearers,  priests,  candles  at  the  altar, 
etc.  But- it  may  be  safely  said  that  the  expense  of  a 
decent  funeral  in  Paris  can  not  be  less  than  five  hun- 
dred francs.  But  the  distinction  of  class  which  is  car- 
ried through  the  funeral  ceremonies  does  not  cease  at 
the  grave.  Death -here  is  no  leveller,  but  an  aristo- 
crat, who  parcels  out  his  victims  according  to  the 
wealth  they  had,  and  divides  men  by  impassable  bar- 
riers even  after  they  have  been  consigned  to  the  bo- 
som of  their  common  mother. 

In  the  great  cemeteries  of  Paris  are  three  classes 
of  graves.  The  first  consists  of  those  sold  in  fee,  and 
held  by  families  forever.  These  "  concessions  a  per- 
petuity "  cost  five  hundred  francs.  The  second  class 
consists  of  those  conceded  for  a  term  of  five  years,  at 
a  cost  of  fifty  francs ;  and  the  third  is  the  fosse  com- 
mune, into  which  the  untitled  poor  are  thrown  like 
dogs  in  a  ditch.  Sixty-four  per  cent.,  or  more  than 
two-thirds  of  those  who  die  in  Paris,  are  thus  buried 
in  rough  pine  coffins  scarcely  half  an  inch  in  thick- 
ness, and  necessarily  piled  in  so  closely  that  they  al- 
most touch  each  other.     There,  the  old  man  and  the 

13 


290       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

infant,  the  courtesan  and  the  virgin,  are  mingled ;  and 
when  the  frail,  thin  boards  which  inclose  the  dead 
separate,  as  they  soon  do,  under  the  combined  action 
of  the  humidity  and  the  mephitic  gases  generated  by 
the  decaying  bodies,  the  sad  remnants  of  mortality  are 
confusedly  mingled  together.  In  that  common  grave, 
an  eternal  adieu  must  be  bid  by  surviving  -friends  to 
those  whom  they  loved  in  life.  Every  five  years  the 
bones  are  dug  up,  to  make  way  for  others,  and  are 
removed  to  the  Catacombs,  those  vast  subterranean 
tombs  where  the  dead  of  centuries  are  thrown  into  a 
common  heap.  If  there  should  be  a  wall  between  the 
graves  of  the  Christians  and  Jews  and  Mohammedans, 
why  not  one  also  to  separate  the  tombs  of  the  rich 
and  great  and  noble  and  honored,  from  the  huge  pit 
into  which  the  poor  are  thrown  ?  But  perhaps  it  is 
better  as  it  is — better  that  by  these  combining  con- 
trasts one  should  be  continually  reminded  that,  not- 
withstanding the  efforts  of  the  Government,  the  do- 
main of  Death  is  a  great  democracy. 

"  The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  e'er  gave, 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour : 
The  path  of  glory  leads  but  to  the  grave." 

Some  of  the  purest  men  in  France  have  been  in- 
terred in  the  fosse  commune,  among  them  the  cele- 
brated Abbe  de  la  Mennais,  who,  for  his  eloquent  out- 


THE   CEMETERY   OF  PERE   LA   CHAISE.  291 

spoken  words  in  defense  of  the  rights  of  the  people, 
drew  upon  himself  the  disfavor  of  the  Government 
and  the  Church,  and  who,  dying,  manifested  his  con-, 
tinued  sympathy  with  the  poor  by  being,  at  his  own 
request,  buried  with  them  in  their  common  grave.  It 
was  this  yawning  gulf,  too,  that  swallowed  up  the 
mortal  remains  of  a  poor  little  neighbor  of  mine  over 
in  the  Quartier  Latin. 

Pauvre  petite  bossue!  This  was  the  exclamation  of 
my  cjarym  as  he  came  into  my  chamber  one  morning, 
and  then  he  pointed,  in  explanation,  up  to  the  attic 
window  opposite,  at  which,  until  within  the  previous 
week,  I  had  seen  every  morning,  upon  rising,  a  little 
hunchbacked  girl  stitching  away  as  if  for  dear  life,  as 
it  seems  indeed  it  was.  She  had  a  mild  blue  eye,  and 
a  clear  pale  complexion,  and  a  patient,  but  care-worn 
face,  for  one  so  young;  and  seeing  her  always  stitch- 
ing— stitching — stitching  from  the  earliest  morning 
hour  till  daylight  had  passed,  patiently  pulling  through 
the  seemingly  never-ending  thread,  she  had  been  for 
months  a  living  example  and  reproach  to  me  when 
I  was  disposed  sometimes,  as  we  all  are  sometimes, 
to  grumble  at  my  lot.  But,  like  that  of  even  the  most 
miserable  in  the  world,  the  life  of  the  little  hunchback 
was  not  wholly  destitute  of  joy.  She  plied  her  needle 
twelve  hours  a  day,  and  received  but  little  for  it ;  but 
she  had  a  canary-bird,  which  she  would  hang  out  at 


292       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST* IN   EUROPE. 

the  window  when  the  midday  sun  threw  a  few  rays 
into  the  high  and  dismal  court-yard  which  formed  the 
, "  prospect "  from  both  our  windows ;  and  sometimes 
she  would  stop  her  stitching  for  a  moment,  and  talk 
with  her  blithe  little  companion,  who  would  whistle 
her  his  joyful  recognition,  and  thanks  for  her  atten- 
tion. Besides  the  bird,  she  had  a  pot  of  mignonnette, 
which  she  used  to  water  carefully.  These  and  her 
never-ending  sewing-work  seemed  to  be  her  only 
companions ;  and  despite  her  feeble  .frame,  and  her 
pale  face,  and  her  deformity,  which  effectually  debar- 
red her  from  many  of  the  pleasures  of  her  sex  and  class 
in  Paris,  the  little  bossue  seemed  always  happy  with 
her  canary  and  her  mignonnette.  They  were  -"going  to 
bury  her,"  the  gargon  said,  "and  the  neighbors  were 
gathering  to  attend  her  funeral ;"  and  so  I,  who  had 
not  known  her,  except  insomuch  as  her  sweet-faced, 
sorrowful  patience,  and  her  earnest  labor,  and  her  care 
for  her  bird  and  mignonnette  had  made  me  love  her, 
went  down  and  joined  the  poor  cortege  which  was 
gathering  at  the  doorway,  and,  following  it  out  to  the 
Cemetery  of  Mont  Parnasse,  saw  the pauvre petite  bossue 
laid  in  her  humble  grave. 

Eespect  for  the  dead,  or  at  least  an  outward  exhi- 
bition of  it,  is  carried  to  a  greater  extent  in  France  than 
in  any  other  Christian  country.  Whenever  a  funeral 
procession,  whether  it  be  of  the  first  or  the  ninth  class, 


THE   CEMETERY    OF  PERE    LA   CHAISE.  293 

is  going  through  the  streets  of  Paris,  every  man  and 
boy  who  passes  or  meets  it  reverently  removes  his 
hat  as  the  hearse  goes  by  him,  and  every  woman  ut- 
ters a  pious  ejaculation  as  she  crosses  herself.  The 
same  mark  of  respect  is  paid  to  the  bodies  while  they 
are  lying  in  the  chapelle  ardente,  which  is  usually  ex- 
temporized in  the  door-way  of  the  houses  in  which 
the  deceased  have  lived.     In  this  wide  passage-way, 

• 

the  coffin,  shrouded  in  black  if  containing  the  remains 
of  a  male,  or  married  female,  and  in  white  if  those  of 
a  young  girl,  and  surrounded  by  tall  burning  candles, 
is  placed  and  permitted  to  remain  for  several  hours 
on  the  day  of  the  funeral.  As  the  passers-by  observe 
the  insignia  of  death,  they  remove  their  hats,  and  in 
traversing  the  space  rendered  sacred  by  the  presence 
of  the  angel  who  wears  the  wreath  of  amaranth,  re- 
main uncovered.  Many  enter  the  door-way,  and 
from  a  small  urn  containing  holy  water,  resting  on  the 
foot  of  the  coffin,  sprinkle  it  with  a  brush,  making  in 
doing  so,  the  sign  of  the  cross. 

One  of  the  most  noticeable  peculiarities  which  al- 
ways strikes  the  eye  of  a  stranger  visiting  the  Parisian 
cemeteries,  are  the  wreaths  of  immortelles  hung  upon 
most  of  the  graves.  These  are  made  of  the  little 
flower  which  we  call  the  "everlasting."  and  which 
grows  in  great  profusion  in  the  vicinity  of  Marseilles 
and  of  Toulon,  and  both  sides  of  the  streets  leading  to 


294       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

the  cemeteries  are  lined  with  shops  devoted  to  the  sale 
of  these  memorials.  An  idea  of  the  importance  of 
this  traffic  may  be  formed  from  the  fact,  that  about 
seven  millions  of  francs'  worth  of  immortelles  are  an- 
nually sold  in  Paris,  and  that  on  the  Jour  des  Morts 
alone  from  six  hundred  thousand  to  a  million  of 
francs'  worth  are  usually  disposed  of.  The  Jour  des 
Morts,  is  a  day  set  apart  in  the  service  of  the  Catholic 
Church  for  the  especial  remembrance  of  the  dead,  and 
on  this  day,  the  friends  and  relatives  of  those  who  are 
lying  in  the  cemeteries  go  to  their  graves,  and  renew 
these  wreaths  oiimmwtelles,  and  statuettes  of  the  Vir- 
gin and  Saviour,  with  which  in  Catholic  countries  the 
survivors  love  to  deck  the  tombs  of  the  departed,  rob- 
bing them  of  that  cold,  barren,  and  desolate  air  which 
they  are  suffered  to  wear  among  those  of  a  sterner 
religion.  The  friend,  the  father,  the  mother,  brother, 
sister,  or  child  of  the  deceased  kneels  before  the  tomb 
of  the  loved  one  lost,  on  that  day,  and  offers  a  prayer 
for  the  rest  of  the  soul  of  the  departed,  and  deposits 
the  annual  offering.  Those  whose  friends  have  been 
buried  in  the  common  grave,  lay  their  tributes  at  the 
foot  of  a  tall  stone  cross  erected  near  the  fosse  com- 
mune, and  around  which,  on  the  Jour  des  Morts,  these 
pious  offerings  are  piled  up  to  the  height  of  several 
feet.  Formerly,  before  the  cold,  realistic  reasoning 
of  the  present  age  had  destroyed  so  much  of  the  beau- 


THE   CEMETERY    UF    FERE    LA   CHAISE.  295 

tiful  legendary  faith  of  the  past,  it  was  believed  that 
the  portion  of  the  night,  from  midnight  to  daylight, 
preceding  the  Jour  des  Morts,  was  a  time  when  the 
dead  were  permitted  to  leave  their  graves,  and  revisit 
the  scenes  of  their  earthly  life,  and  the  friends  and  re- 
latives whom  they  had  loved.  Parents,  who  had  lost 
their  children,  lovers,  whose  betrothed  had  been 
crowned  with  the  bridal  wreath  of  earth,  all  who  had 
friends  lying  in  the  tomb,  on  this  night  sat  by  their 
firesides,  leaving  open  a  door  or  window  at  which 
'the  loved  ones  might  enter.  In  some  portions  of 
France  this  faith  is  still  retained. 

Besides  Pere  la  Chaise,  there  are  two  other  great 
cemeteries  in  Paris,  those  of  Montmartre  and  Mont 
Parnasse.  Of  these,  that  of  Montmartre  is  the  more 
recherche,  and  contains  the  remains  of  more  illustrious 
men  and  women  of  France  who  have  recently  died 
than  either,  or  perhaps  both  the  others.  Poets  and 
painters,  romance-writers  and  journalists,  musicians 
and  actresses  whose  names  are  familiar  to  every  lover 
of  art  and  literature,  lie  buried  in  close  companionship 
on  the  borders  of  the  wide  and  shady  avenues  of  Mont- 
martre. Among  these  are  Mme.  Emile  de  Girardin, 
the  eccentric  Henri  Heine,  Henri  Murger,  who  has  so 
charmingly  depicted  the  student  and  Bohemian  life  in 
his  "  Pays  Latin  "  and  "  Scenes  de  la  Vie  de  Bohcme," 
Tony  Johannot,  the  caricaturist,  Charles  Fourier,  Ha- 


296       AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN  EUROPE. 

levy,  and  Horace  Vernet.  The  original  of  the  "  Dame 
aux  Camelias,"  the  loving  and  the  sinning  Marie  Du- 
plessy,  lies  also  in  Montmartre,  and  her  tomb,  poor  girl, 
is  annually  covered  with  wreaths,  of  immortelles. 

The  annual  number  of  deaths  in  Paris  is  about 
41,000.  Twenty -six  thousand  two  hundred  and  forty, 
or  sixty-four  per  cent,  of  these,  are  buried  by  the  city 
at  an  expense  of  157,440  francs.  Of  this  number,  the 
deaths  in  the  hospitals  furnish  from  2500  to  3000. 


CHAPTER.  XXL 

RELIGIOUS  FREEDOM  IX  FRANCE. 

The  Catholic,  Protestant,  and  Jewish  Establishments. — The  Parisian 
Catholic  Churches.— The  "Eglise  des  Petits  Peres."— The  Statue 
of  St.  Peter.— The  "Ex  Votos."— The  Tableau  of  "Indulg- 
ences." 

r  I  ^HE  free  exercise  of  religion  is  guaranteed  by  the 
-■-  organic  law  of  France,  and  the  French  Govern- 
ment supports  and  sustains  alike  the  Catholic,  Protest- 
ant, and  Israelitish  forms  of  worship.  In  the  Catholic 
Church  are  eighty-one  bishops,  and  seventeen  arch- 
bishops, the  Archbishop  of  Paris  receiving  a  salary 
of  50,000  francs  per  annum,  while  the  others  have 
only  20,000.  In  the  parish  clergy  are  178  vicars- 
general,  receiving  from  2500  to  4000  francs  each ; 
3426  cure's,  who  do  most  of  the  active  duty,  and  who 
therefore  receive  the  smallest  pay,  amounting  to  but 
from  twelve  to  fiftc  cnhundred  francs  each.  Besides 
these,  there  are  30,243  assistants,  who,  according  to 
age,  receive  from  nine  to  twelve  hundred  francs;  mak- 
ing a  total  for  the  expense  of  the  Catholic  worship  in 
France  of  forty-seven  millions  of  francs  per  annum. 
The  native  Protestants  in  France  number  about 

L3* 


298        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

two  millions.  To  supply  the  religious  wants  of  these, 
eight  hundred  and  fourteen  places  have  been  estab- 
lished, each  with  a  pastor,  receiving  from  1500  to 
2000  francs,  and  two  assistants,  with  700  to  750  francs 
each;  making  a  total  of  1,493,436  fr.  expended  by  the 
Government  for  the  support  of  the  Protestant  form 
of  worship.  In  the  Jewish  Church  are  ten  grand 
rabbis,  who  receive  from  3500  to  7000  francs  per  an- 
num,  fifty-one  rabbis,  with  from  800  to  1500,  and  six- 
ty-two ministers,  with  from  500  to  1000. 

In  Paris  there  are  several  English  churches  both 
of  the  "  Establishment "  and  of  Dissenters.  Two 
American  churches  have  also  been  organized  within 
the  past  few  years,  and  the  congregations  of  both  have 
erected  elegant  and  comfortable  houses  of  worship. 

There  are  no  pews  nor  permanent  seats  in  the  Eo- 
man  Catholic  churches  of  Paris,  but,  instead  of  these, 
plain  rush-bottomed  chairs,  before  each  one  of  which 
a  prie  dieu  (a  small  chair  to  kneel  upon)  is  placed. 
These,  at  all  the  services,  whether  mass,  sermon,  or 
vespers,  are  free  to  all  who  pay  the  sum  of  two  or 
three  sous,  usually  collected  by  women  standing  at 
the  entrances.  Those  in  the  outer  aisles  are  let  at 
one  and  two  sous,  and  those  who  can  not  afford  the 
luxury  of  a  seat,  or  are  too  economically  inclined  to 
disburse  the  requisite  sum,  can  find  plenty  of  stand- 
ing-room gratis.     At  first  view,  this   direct,  immedi- 


RELIGIOUS    FREEDOM    IN    FRANCE.  299 

ate  purchase  of  a  seat,  in  a  temple  dedicated  to  the 
worship  of  God,  seems  rather  incongruous,  and  affects 
unpleasantly  those  who  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
walking,  without  let  or  hinderance,  into  their  own 
pews.  But  then  this  system  has  its  advantages. 
Any  person  possessing  three  sous  is  sure  of  a  seat 
at  church,  if  he  go  early  enough,  without  being  re- 
quired to  depend  upon  "the  gentlemanly  and  obli- 
ging sexton ;"  nor  is  he  liable  to  be  frowned  out  of 
somebody's  pew,  in  which  he  may  have  placed  him- 
self by  mistake,  and  from  which  he  is  requested  to 
retire  by  a  shower  of  eye-daggers  looked  at  him  by 
the  legitimate  occupant. 

One's  position  on  the  floor  of  the  church  depends 
in  no  manner  upon  the  quality  of  one's  coat,  the  color 
of  one's  face,  or  the  length  of  one's  purse ;  and  in  the 
grand  old  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  and  the  churches 
of  the  Madelainc,  St.  Eustache,  and  St.  Eoch  may  be 
seen  on  any  Sunday,  at  mass  or  vespers,  workmen,  in 
their  blue  blouses,  sitting  side  by  side  with  men  high 
in  position  and  rank  and  wealth.  The  poor  little 
ouvritre,  who  has  been  all  the  week  plying  her  needle 
and  sewing  out  her  eyes  in  some  dingy  back  garret 
of  the  Eue  St.  Jacques,  is  seated  by  the  side  of  a 
countess  with  bejewelled  fingers,  and  instead  of  being 
banished  to  the-"  negro  pew,"  the  woolly-headed  Afri- 
can occupies  a  chair  next  to  the  gentleman  decorated 


oUU        AN    AMERICAN   JOURNALIST    IN    EUROPE. 

with  the  Grand  Cross  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  All  dif- 
ferences of  rank  and  position  are  for  the  hour  forgot- 
ten, or  at  least  abandoned,  and  poor  and  rich,  the  beg- 
gar and  the  millionaire,  the  rag-picker  and  the  mer- 
chant, the  lady  of  rank  and  her  servant,  fhe  working- 
girl  and  the  duchess,  all  stand  beneath  these  vaulted 
roofs  equal  before  God,  and  God  bathes  them  all  alike 
with  his  gorgeous  sunshine  streaming  through  the 
stained  rose  windows  of  these  splendid  old  churches. 

How  far  into  the  sacred  aisles  of  St.  Paul's  or 
Westminister  Abbey  would  a  market-woman,  or  a 
rough  sailor,  in  his  woollen  shirt,  be  permitted  to 
penetrate  ?  And  yet,  in  the  Italian  cities,  it  is  by  no 
means  uncommon  for  the  peasantry,  on  their  way  to 
the  market-places,  to  stop  a  moment  in  one  of  the 
grand  old  edifices,  and,  setting  down  their  burden  on 
the  broad  pavement  (for  most  of  the  churches  in 
Italy  are  unencumbered  even  by  chairs),  kneel  and 
offer  up  a  hasty  prayer.  Might  not  Protestants  learn 
a  lesson  from  Catholics  ? 

Strangers  visiting  Paris,  and  desirous  of  hearing 
the  best  church  music,  should  attend  high  mass  at  St. 
Koch,  St.  Eustache,  or  the  Madelaine.  One  of  the 
most  interesting  religious  ceremonies  is  the  grand 
mass  at  the  chapel  of  the  Invalides,  performed  every 
Sunday  at  noon.  The  music  is  that  of  a  military 
band,  and,  during  the  mass,  the  old  and  disabled  sol- 


RELIGIOUS   FREEDOM    IN    FRANCE.  301 

diers,  who  are  cared  for  in  that  noble  institution, 
stand  in  the  aisles  with  their  heads  uncovered,  each 
bearing  in  his  hand  a  lance  surmounted  with  the 
French  tri-color.  Strangers  will  of  course  visit  the 
Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  the  Pantheon,  and  the 
light  and  delicately  -  ornamented  Church  of  St.  Eti- 
enne  du  Mont,  which  contains  the  tomb  of  St.  Gene- 
vieve, the  patron  saint  of  Paris.  They  should  also 
see  the  Church  of  Saint  Germain  des  Pres,  one  of  the 
oldest  ecclesiastical  edifices  in  Paris,  as  well  as  the 
old  but  newly  "restored"  Church  of  St.  Germain 
Auxerrois,  from  whose  bell-tower  sounded,  three  hun- 
dred years  ago,  the  fatal  signal  for  the  massacre  of 
St.  Bartholomew.  One  of  the  most  curious  and  in- 
teresting and  peculiar  churches  in  Paris,  is  that  of 
X'fre  Dame  des  Victoires,  commonly  known  as  the 
Eglise  des  Petits  Peres,  in  the  Place  des  Victoires.  This 
church  contains  a  large  bronze  statue  of  St.  Peter, 
holding  in  his  hand  the  keys  of  heaven,  and  this 
statue,  or  the  prayers  said  before  it,  are  supposed  by 
the  faithful  to  have  a  more  than  ordinary  effect  in  ap- 
peasing divine  wrath  and  propitiating  divine  favor. 
The  devout,  indeed,  have  given  evidence  of  their 
faith  here  by  kissing  the  bronze  toes  of  the  statue 
until  they  are  worn  to  a  golden  color,  and  kept  bright 
by  the  continually  renewed  embraces  of  the  lips  of 
kneeling  penitents.     The  Eglise  des  Petits  Peres,  which 


802        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

is  dedicated  to  the  Virgin,  has  indeed  a  grand  repu- 
tation, and  the   fashionable  and  unfashionable  piety 
of  Paris  flocks  to  it  at  all  hours  of  the  day  to  say  its 
prayers,  and  invoke   the  aid  of  the  Virgin  and  the 
Prince  of  Apostles.     The  interior  of  the  church,  in 
which  service  is  held  continually,  is  lined  with  little 
marble  slabs,  the  ex  votos,  or  freewill  offerings  and  re- 
membrances of  those  who,  having  asked  favors  of  the 
Virgin  in  this   temple,  consecrated   to  her   worship, 
have  had  their  prayers,  or  at  least  are  themselves 
satisfied  that  they  have  had  their  prayers  answered. 
There   are  several  hundred  of  these,  all  bearing  in- 
scriptions, the  most  common  of  which  is  the  follow- 
ing :  "  I  prayed  to  Mary,  and  she  answered  my.prayer." 
On  some  are  inscribed  "  Thanks  to  Mary  ;"  on  others, 
"  Ever  grateful  to  Mary  and  Joseph ;"  on  one  is  cut, 
"  Thanks  to  Mary  and  Joseph  for  the  care   of  my 
daughter;"  and   upon  another,  "Gratitude  to  Mary 
and    Joseph :    by    their    interposition,    the    Widow 
Akerman  and  her  two   daughters  were  saved  from 
the  flames  in  the  accident  at  Joigny,  1865,"  and  the 
grateful  "  Widow  Akerman  and  her  daughters  "  have 
therefore  placed  this  slab  in  the  church.     There  are 
also  special  and  extraordinary  "  indulgences  "  accord- 
ed to  the  faithful,  who  visit  and  say  their  prayers  in 
this  edifice,  and  these  are  set  forth  in  a  "tableau" 
which  is  suspended  in  the  portal. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ROUEN    AXD   ITS   ROMANTIC   REMINISCENCES. 

First  Impressions. — The  Rouen  of  To-day. — The  Cathedral  of  Notre 
Dame. — St.  Christopher  and  his  Histoiy. — St.  Ouen. — A  curious 
Book.  —William  the  Conqueror —  "  His  Mark." — The  Heart  of 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion. — The  Spot  where  Joan  of  Arc  was  burnt. 

JTy  OUEN,  the  capital  of  ancient  Normandy,  and  the 
-■"*•'  former  residence  of  the  Norman  dukes,  is  pic- 
turesquely located  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  about 
midway  between  Havre  and  Paris.  Its  old,  narrow, 
sidewalkless  streets,  on  which  front  the  gable-ends 
of  the  houses,  swarm  with  busy  life — for  Rouen  is 
a  large  manufacturing  city,  supplying  France  with 
a  great  portion  of  its  cotton  goods.  Here  William 
the  Conqueror  died,  and  Richard  of  the  Lion  Heart 
was  buried ;  and  here  the  last  sad  act  in  the  life-dra- 
ma of  the  maiden  of  Domremy  was  consummated;  for 
here  Joan  of  Arc  was  burnt  alive  in  the  market- 
place. With  the  exception  of  a  row  of  new  build- 
ings on  the  quay,  which  hide  from  view  the  queer- 
looking,  slate-fronted,  high-roofed  houses,  the  old  city 
of  Rouen  wears  nearly  the  same  aspect  now  that  it 
did  when  William  and  Richard  rode  proudly  through 


oOl       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN    EUROPE. 

it,  and  the  gentle,  lovely  maiden  was  led  along  its 
streets  to  execution. 

The  cathedral  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  speci- 
mens of  ecclesiastical  architecture  in  France.  The 
delicate,  lace-like  tracery  of  its  facade  and  porches, 
much  worn  with  time,  is  still  surpassingly  beautiful. 
Two  towers,  one  of  the  12th,  and  the  other  of  the 
15th  century,  rise  at  the  sides,  and  in  the  centre  is  a 
huge  abomination  in  the  form  of  a  modern  cast-iron 
spire  four  hundred  and  thirty-six  feet  high,  and  to 
which  thirty  feet  are  yet  to  be  added.  One  of  the 
old  towers  is  called  the  "  Tour  de  Beurre  "  (the  But- 
ter Tower),  it  having  been  built  with  money  paid  for 
indulgences  to  eat  butter  during  Lent.  What  an  im- 
mense quantity  of  the  article  must  have  been  con- 
sumed in  its  construction  !  There  are  some  very  cu- 
rious reliefs  over  the  doors.  One  of  these,  a  repre- 
sentation of  the  decapitation  of  St.  John  the  Baptist, 
contains  a  figure  of  the  daughter  of  Herodias,  who  is 
stated  to  have  "  danced  "  before  the  king.  The  young 
lady,  however,  instead  of  dancing,  is  in  the  ungrace- 
ful and  highly  unfeminine  position  of  a  tumbler, 
standing  upon  her  hands,  with  her  nether  limbs 
thrown  over  her  head,  as  though  she  were  desirous  of 
astonishing  her  beholders  by  the  performance  of  that, 
difficult  gymnastic  feat  which  boys  call. "bending  the 
crab."     All  around  and  above  the  doors  are  headless 


ROUEN  AND  ITS  ROMANTIC  REMINISCENCES.     305 

statues  of  the  saints  and  apostles.  These  were  muti- 
lated by  the  Huguenots  in  1562,  who  not  only  broke 
all  the  statues  they  could  reach,  but  made  fires  within 
the  buildings  to  burn  the  pulpit,  organ  and  priestly 
robes.  Much  which  the  Huguenots  spared  the  Re< 
publicans  destroyed,  for  they  converted  the  Cathedral 
into  an  armorer's  shop,  and  the  effect  of  these  desecra- 
tions are  still  visible  upon  the  blackened  walls  and 
pillars. 

It  is  almost  impossible  to  convey  any  accurate  idea 
of  the  vast  proportions,  and  gorgeous  appearance  of 
the  interior.  The  sunlight  comes  through  Gothic  and 
rose  windows,  and  floods  the  stone  floor  with  the  col- 
ors of  the  rainbow.  I  saw  it  on  Sunday  morning 
during  mass,  when  the  pavement  was  covered  with 
thousands  of  kneeling  worshipers,  their  heads  all 
lighted  up  with  the  golden  and  rosy  glow  which 
streamed  through  the  windows.  The  organ  was  peal- 
ing out  the  Gloria  in  Excelsis,  and,  to  give  additional 
effect,  the  huge  bells  in  the  tower  were  just  then  set 
to  ringing.  Mass  over,  I  visited  the  monuments.  In 
the  floor  of  the  choir,  just  in  front  of  the  high  altar, 
four  small  lozenge-shaped  tablets  of  marble  let  into 
the  pavement  mark  the  spots  where  the  heart  of 
Richard  Cceur  de  Lion  and  the  body  of  his  brother 
Henry  were  interred.  Their  statues,  much  injured  by 
the  Huguenots  in  16G3,  were  removed,  and  lost  until 


306        AN   AMERICAN  JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

1838,  when  the  effigy  of  Richard,  and  his  heart,  shrunk 
in  size,  but  still  perfect,  and  enveloped  in  green  taf- 
feta, were  dug  up  from  under  the  altar.  The  statue 
now  lies  in  one  of  the  chapels,  and  although  the  nose 
is  broken  off,  as  well  as  one  of  the  hands  and  a  foot, 
there  are  still  left  appearances  of  that  nobleness  and 
courage  which  earned  for  him  the  title  of  the  Lion 
Heart.  There  are  other  statues  in  the  choir,  and 
among  them  that  of  the  Duke  de  Breze,  Grand  Senes- 
chal of  Normandy,  and  the  husband  of  Diana  of  Poi- 
tiers, the  beautiful  mistress  of  two  kings,  who  is  rep- 
resented kneeling  beside  the  body  of  her  husband, 
weeping  as  if  she  "  would  not  be  comforted." 

There  are  some  good  pictures  in  the  chapels,  and 
one  of  St.  Christopher  bearing  an  infant  on  his  shoul- 
der across  a  river  particularly  attracted  my  attention. 
How  beautiful  are  some  of  those  old  legends  of  the 
Church,  teaching  lessons  of  endurance,  hope,  faith,  and 
all  religious  virtues  such  as,  alas,  we  seldom  meet  in 
the  every-day  walks  of  life,  and  in  this  faithless  age. 
Christopher  was  a  very  strong  man — almost  a  giant, 
and  it  was  his  ambition,  to  serve  the  mightiest  and 
strongest  king  he  could  find,  and  so  he  transferred 
his  services  from  monarch  to  monarch,  always  look- 
ing for  a  mightier  one  to  wait  upon.  At  length  he 
heard  of  Christ,  and  that  he,  though  gentle,  kind,  and 
loving,  tender  as  a  mother  to  her  infant,  was  more 


ROUEN  AND  ITS  ROMANTIC  REMINISCENCES.    3U7 

powerful  than  all  the  kings  of  earth.  So  Christopher 
said  he  would  quit  the  service  of  the  earthly  mon- 
archs,  and  enter  that  of  his  Heavenly  Master.  He 
threw  away  his  carnal  weapons,  and  went  into  a  con- 
vent. But  Christopher  was  ignorant  and  clumsy,  and 
only  qualified  for  labor  which  required  great  strength 
and  endurance,  and  the  monks  set  him  to  the  perform- 
ance of  the  hard  work  about  the  monastery.  Among 
his  other  duties  was  that  of  carrying  on  his  huge, 
broad  back  across  a  river  the  wood  which  the  monks 
Required  for  use,  and  Christopher  set  himself  cheer- 
fully at  work  performing  this  menial  labor.  But  he 
was  anxious  always  to  see  and  have  tangible  evidence 
of  the  existence  of  the  mighty  monarch  in  whose 
ranks  he  was  employed,  and  would  question  the 
monks  often  as  to  how  he  could  be  found  ;  and  the 
good  monks  told  him  to  wait  and  be  patient  and  hope- 
ful, and  he  would  yet  stand  in  the  very  presence  of 
his  Divine  Master.  And  so  one  day,  upon  the  river- 
bank  opposite  the  monastery,  he  found  a  fair-haired, 
rosy  little  child  playing  all  alone,  and  Christopher 
took  him  in  his  arms,  to  carry  him  over  for  the 
monks  to  tend  and  care  for — for  he  seemed  lost  and 
homeless — and  in  performing  this  charitable  act  Chris- 
topher knew  that  he  was  doing  good  service  to  his 
Ibavenly  King.  lie  placed  the  infant  on  his  shoul- 
ders, and  waded  into  the   stream,  but,  as  he  neared 


308        AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

the  opposite  bank,  his  burden  began  to  grow  hea\ier, 
and  when  he  landed  and  set  down  his  load,  instead 
of  a  child,  he  saw  a  full-grown  man,  with  a  divine 
face,  and  a  halo  of  glory  all  about  his  head ;  and  in 
the  little  child  which  he  had  carried  across  the  river 
Christopher  saw  his  Master,  Saviour,  God ! 

From  the  cathedral  we  went  to  the  Church  of  St. 
Ouen,  a  magnificent  specimen  of  medieval  architec- 
ture, which  also  suffered  terribly  at  the  hands  of  the 
Huguenots.  The  interior  of  this  is  even  more  gor- 
geously beautiful  than  that  of  the  cathedral.  The 
walls  seem  to  be  of  richly-stained  glass,  and  the  im- 
mense rose  windows  at  either  end  throw  a  flood  of 
variegated  light  up  and  down  the  nave.  There  are 
no  monuments  here,  but  there  is  a  simple  slab,  mark- 
ing the  burial-place  of  Alexander  Berneval,  the  mas- 
ter-mason, who  murdered  his  apprentice  because  the 
youth  had  surpassed  him  in  the  construction  of  one 
of  the  rose  windows.  Although  the  mason  suffered 
the  penalty  of  his  crime,  the  monks,  out  of  gratitude 
for  his  skill,  interred  his  body  in  the  church  which 
he  had  contributed  so  much  to  ornament. 

In  the  public  library  adjoining  the  church  is  one 
of  the  most  remarkable  specimens  of  patient,  earnest 
labor  in  existence.  It  is  an  immense  book  of  parch- 
ment, about  three  feet  long  by  two  in  width,  on  the 
leaves  of  which,  a  Benedictine  monk,  Daniel   d'Au- 


ROUEX  AND  ITS  ROMANTIC  REMINISCENCES.    309 

bonne,  wrote  the  words  and  music  of  a  mass.  Each 
page  is  adorned  with  beautifully  illuminated  vig- 
nettes, of  which  the  last  one,  on  the  last  page,  is  par- 
ticularly striking,  as  well  in  boldness  of  conception 
as  finish  of  execution.  The  subject  is  the  "End  of 
All."  The  dead  in  their  shrouds  are  rising  from  their 
graves,  the  candles  on  the  altar  are  burned  to  their 
sockets,  an  hour-glass  is  reversed,  and  Death,  with  his 
skeleton  fingers,  is  writing  "  Finis  "  upon  a  tombstone. 
The  whole  work,  which  fills  two  hundred  pages,  was 
executed  in  the  loth  century,  and  required  the  labor 
of  the  monk  for  thirty  consecutive  years. 

From  here  we  went  to  the  Museum  of  Antiquities, 
containing  many  curious  Eoman  remains  gathered  in 
Normandy,  among  them  a  number  of  signet  rings, 
with  letters  cut  upon  them  to  be  used  for  pressing 
names  in  wax.  The  letters  were  reversed,  as  in  ordi- 
nary type ;  and  it  seems  strange  that  although  in  this 
the  Eomans  stood  upon  the  very  threshold  of  the 
discovery,  the  art  of  printing  should  have  remained 
unknown  for  a  thousand  years  after.  In  this  mu- 
seum are  some  charters  granted  by  William  the  Con- 
queror and  Richard  Cceur  de  Lion,  with  their  signa- 
tures attached.  That  of  the  former,  however,  is  only 
a  huge,  clumsy  cross,  such  as  a  schoolboy,  just  emerg- 
ing from  his  "pot-hooks  and  hangers,"  would  be  apt 
to    make;  for  although  William  could  conquer  the 


310       AN   AMERICAN   JOURNALIST   IN   EUROPE. 

Saxons,  and  give  a  race  of  kings  and  laws  to  Eng- 
land, he  never  was  able  to  overcome  the  obstacles 
which  stood  in  the  way  of  learning  to  write  his 
name. 

Here,  too,  in  a  little  glass  box,  is  all  that  remains 
of  the  "lion  heart"  of  Eichard — of  the  heart  whose 
active  pulsations  inspired  the  bold  Crusader  to  attempt 
the  rescue  of  the  Holy  Land  from  the  pollution  of 
the  Infidel.  It  resembled  very  much  little  crumbled 
pieces  of  sea-biscuit,  and  could  easily  be  contained 
in  a  table-spoon. 

In  the  centre  of  the  town,  in  a  triangular  space 
now  called  the  "Place  de  la  .Pucelle,"  is  a  fount- 
ain, surmounted  by  a  wretched  statue  of  Jeanne 
d'Arc,  who  was  burnt  on  this  spot  in  the  year  1431. 
Around  it  are  quaint,  old,  slate-fronted  houses;  and 
from  the  windows  of  these,  and  from  the  roof  of  an 
old  church  standing  on  the  corner  (now  converted 
into  a  livery  stable)  the  vile  rabble  watched  the 
smoke  and  flames  curling  around  the  form  of  the  no- 
ble maiden,  whose  crime  had  been  to  save  them  and 
their  country  from  the  English.  But  that  was  more 
than  four  hundred  years  ago. 

THE   END. 


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